Where's MC Hammer when you need him? (File under "Don't Look Ethel". Again.)

Last night was bath night. Carrie poured one for Damon after she finished hers, and he promptly cried that it was already cold (and deep, though for a blazing blue wonder he didn't comment on that aspect of it, which he almost always does). 

Should the period go inside the parentheses or outside? Hm.

We get him clean lickety-split so he can get out of there, wrap him in his hooded monkey towel, and coach him that once he's dry and jammies are on to please throw his dirty laundry into the hamper. I leave the bathroom.

A number of minutes later, a still naked and caped almost six year old comes prancing along the hall to inform me that he "used this towel to clean up the tub. Is that okay?" I look into that sweet, hopeful face and inform him that the towel is for his clean body and probably not best for the tub, but thanks for being thoughtful and wanting to help. He skips back down the hall to the bathroom, towel fluttering from his head.

A handful of minutes after that, a very naked almost six year old gallops down the hall to hand me a bottle of blue food coloring that I actually had seen in the bathroom but hadn't really registered. 98% of his body is still clean, except for the brilliant indigo of his mouth and chin. Yes, I saw you all insert your head into your hands. That's what I did, too. 

"Here you go, Mama!"

And back down the hall goes his naked bum, accompanied by the not muted sounds of hawkering and rapid-fire spitting once he gets into the bathroom. 

I flick Carrie's ear from behind as I return to the kitchen table and she jumps a mile with a "what was that for!?" I ask her why the food coloring was in the bathroom. "IIIIIIIIIIII don't know!" 

"Carrie. Your brothers did not put it in there. Pap did not put it in there. Dada and I did not put it in there. Triskal did not put it in there. That leaves you."

"Oh yeeeeeeeaaaaaah, I was making blue milk."

(Thought but unasked: "In the BATHROOM!?") 

She goes to survey the scene and reports back that "he's spitting all over the towel, just so you know."

Sure enough, not just the hand towel that belongs on the sink is blue. There's also blue on the fresh, clean bath towel I had just washed and rehung that afternoon as well as on the bathmat that had also just been washed and returned.

Good thing I don't mind doing laundry.

"Mama, I can't get it ooooooooff..."

Why can't there be theme songs attached to objects to warn away those with less than honorable intentions? Of course, my house would be a constant cacophony of "Can't Touch This... duh duh duh duh, duh duh, duh duh, Can't Touch This!" 

I am happy to report that with a little more scrubbing and a lot more brushing, Damon Sebastian is now boy-colored again.