Let’s hope! Our house must have been jinxed the warm August day when by suppertime a carpet cleaner would have been most welcome. Our girls have never spilled so much when they were toddling around with sippy cups or sitting in a highchair.
I sensed the first mishap while I was scrubbing a stain from one of my tops (as I’ve confessed to you, this is a common occurrence), when I heard squeals and shrieks like tympani behind the orchestra building to a finale. In this case, the finale was me interceding in time to find the full mug of orange juice that I saw Kathie carrying earlier, lying on its side amidst yellow pools sploshed about on the green carpet in Josie’s bedroom. Long, teenage legs with the bare feet of summer are not compatible with tall, open tumblers of liquid. As I sopped and brushed at the wet spot, I thought longingly of the clear plastic sippy lids of days gone by.
Later that day, the plastic tumbler picturing Ollie Olive, of Olive Garden fame, and his cute, green family had only an inch or so of Coke left in it. As Jo swished past the edge of her desk to show me the paper she was working on, the cup toppled, splashing its sticky contents on, yes, the same green carpet I mentioned before. More mopping and sopping prevailed.
With fans blowing on the wet, spotted floor, afternoon soon turned our thoughts to supper. Returning home from dropping Kathie at cheerleading practice, Mark discussed plans with me to get aggressive with our refrigerator full of leftovers. Leftovers would have been fine with the absent cheerleader, but the long, teenage legs with the bare feet of summer found leftovers cold and uninteresting. She decided to go her own way, opening a can of corned beef hash, heating it in the microwave for herself, and, upon reaching the door to her room – the room with the wet, spotted green carpet, somehow spilling the greasy plateful on the threshold.
I cannot picture a messier, more distasteful looking state for the brown, semi-shag carpeting in the hall. The green carpeting in Josie’s bedroom that you are now so familiar with took its share of the spill, too. This was assuredly one of the most challenging messes I have ever tried to tackle – all tummy upsets in the wee hours aside. I decided that surely this third disturbance would be the last for the day.
Now, the clock approaches midnight and while I type, all is calm. As kitty, Lloyd, saunters in with his wise request to get to bed and lights out, I review the lessons learned. We have been lax this summer with our eating habits. At our house, food is best kept in our kitchen. A seasoned mom can handle any spills that come along when she has to.
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