Sorry about the milk

So this morning I was "working" on the computer. You know, when you tell your kid that you're working but you're really reading gossip columns, or reading something else that is a total waste of time. So that's what I was doing...well apparently I wasn't parenting. Andrew comes up to me and says, "Mommy sorry about the milk Mommy." Huh? What are you talking about (this is in my head). Then I realize that I left the milk out on the butcher block from breakfast and he can reach it, and I get up to check, and it's not there any more.

As I'm running down the hall I'm yelling, "Where is it?" My son can only say, "Sorry about the milk Mommy." As I turn the corner to enter his room, I see the EMPTY milk carton sitting on his rocking chair. I approach the chair and hear the sound of milk spilling from the corner of his chair onto the floor. Right. My 2 1/2 year old son has taken the milk carton and dumped it all over the bear, his chair, and now it's spilling onto the carpet. So instead of getting super pissed I realize that it's partly my fault and I calmly clean it up while my son sits in a 2 minute time out for, "touching things that you know you're supposed to ask about first."

The best part, or maybe not so great is the fact that after I discovered the milk spilling onto the floor I go out into the garage to get some cleaning supplies and I see my husband sitting in the driveway talking on the phone. I motion to him, he opens the door, I say there's milk all over Andrew's room. He closes the car door and continues talking on the phone. Right. It was an interesting start to the day. Once things were clean I calmly locked myself in my bedroom and took the longest shower possible so that I didn't have to talk to anyone in my family. Feel the love.