The Mess

This story happened a while ago but I’ve been wanting to write it down so that I would never forget it. Once you read it you will wonder if it’s even possible to forget such a story, but I’m still going to write it down for posterity nonetheless. It’s one of my favorite stories to share with expecting parents because of the horrified, what-have-we-gotten-ourselves-into look that they give me as I convey the details.

Candis had not been feeling well for the past couple of days, and when I left for work on that particular morning she was still in bed. She was running a fever, extremely nauseous and completely drained of energy, what she needed was some rest. I sternly lectured the boys before I left for work making sure that they understood that Mommy was sick, that they were to play quietly, that they could get snacks out of the pantry so long as they just left Mommy alone. They agreed that they would be good and help Mommy to get some rest.

It actually worked pretty well for several hours, either that or Candis was too hopped up on Day Quill and other over the counter drugs to realize what was going on. Sometime before noon however, there was a knock on Mommy’s door. David entered with Graham in tow, “Momma,” he said, “there’s a really, really big mess out there, but we didn’t make it. Do you want us to clean it up?”
“Yes please.”
“OK, but we didn’t make it,” said David attempting to proclaim their innocence once again.
“Well who else would have made it?” asked Candis. This is a logical question and the answer would have been useful if 3 year olds were logical beings. They are not, so instead of a logical answer David again proclaimed their innocence before leaving to go clean up the mess.

After a few minutes curiosity prevailed and Candis went to go look at the mess, all the while imagining that she was going to have to reprimand David for lying about who made the mess. Unfortunately for Candis, David had been telling the truth. They did not make the mess. No. The dog made the mess.

My poor wife went out to the front room to discover that ‘the mess’ was in fact the dog’s vomit. Worse yet the boys were busy cleaning it up per her instructions and when I say “cleaning it up” I of course mean “spreading it all around.” David being the resourceful boy that he is had decided that he would need something to scoop up the mess, and when you need to scoop something up what better device than a spoon? I’m not sure how many spoonfuls David had transported from the front room, through the dining room to the trashcan in the kitchen, but it was enough to leave a visible trail. Graham was not tall enough to reach the silverware drawer and was cleaning up without the benefit of a spoon, to this day we’re not sure what he was using to carry vomit to the trashcan.

Both boys looked at their Mom, their faces beaming with pride. Not only had they had helped her “clean up” the mess, but they would like it noted for the record that it was indeed a mess that they did not make. Of course that’s a technicality because while they didn’t make the mess, they did make the mess bigger.

This would be a horrendous situation to be faced with as a healthy parent, let alone one who was already nauseous and feverish. The situation was probably made worse when Candis called her husband to ask if he could come home early to help out. I listened to her retell what had happened. I laughed, I cried, I almost rolled around on the floor, it was an unbelievably funny story to listen to from the safety of my office. Then when the story was over, I politely informed her that I was regrettably unable to leave work early.