Fork

Inside or outside, chances are I am going to have shoes on. I’ve learned that walking barefoot is just asking for trouble. Those toys got sharp little pointy things all over them just waiting to poke someone’s eye out or stab a momma’s foot. This causes a chain reaction of events to occur: step on pointy object that stabs foot, shout OW drawing everyone’s focus to you (strange since they never notice when you shout other things that start with “I MEAN IT…”, mutter a four letter word under your breath, children repeat four letter word with great intensity, convince family members that your child is not swearing but has a passion for utensils (“Oh yes, he really likes to use a FORK at dinner.”) It’s just better to wear shoes.

Occasionally there are acceptations to the shoe wearing rule. For example, I don’t wear shoes in the shower, so when I get out of the shower there is a good several minutes of the dressing process in which my feet are exposed to the lurking dangers. Today I gave thought to rethinking the no shoes in the shower policy.

I step out, on to the bathroom rug. My foot pushing into the flooring makes it go squiiiishh. Fork.

The rug is all wet.

Why is the rug wet?

Is that a yellow puddle on the floor?

Fork.

Ughhh someone pee peed the floor!!

Wait.

Why does it smell like pickles in here?

Why is there a jar of pickles laying on it’s side on the bathroom floor?

Oh that’s right…during the 45 second shower I bestow myself the luxury of having on a daily basis, Kinsley comes into the bathroom to tell me she wants a snack. Apparently this was short for, “Mom, I want a pickle for a snack and brought you the jar because I can’t open it. I’ll just leave it here for you so  you can open it immediately upon exiting the shower.”

Fork. There is dill pickle juice on the floor.