It could always be worse

It started out as such a nice, calm, slow, peaceful, relaxing dinner at home with just us three guys. Jackson told me all about how much he likes summer school — and that today, the second day, was even better than the first! (It's because he got to correct the teacher several times: “She didn’t even know that Jupiter has 66 moons. Or that its ‘spot,’ which is a storm, has winds that blow 237 miles per hour.”)

After supper, the serenity continued as we got out crayons and both boys colored at the kitchen table while I read the newspaper. Jackson went so far as to say I’m the best artist he knows (because he likes how I draw grass).

Ahhhh...


And then:
• Landon pulled the towel ring out of the wall in the powder room, ripping both wall anchors through the drywall and gouged another spot on the wall on his way down, crashing to the floor. My poor Ralph Lauren faux leather paint job!
• When I ran to the noise in the bathroom and picked Landon up off the floor, as soon as he opened his mouth to wail, blood came billowing out in waves.
• I had to comfort him and hold him close, hoping he wouldn’t see all the blood himself, which ruined what was my favorite Northwest T-shirt.
• Seeing the dark red blood gushing out of Landon’s mouth sent Jackson into hysterical shock. “You have to call Mom!”
• As I finally got Landon cleaned up and was reading him bedtime stories, Jackson gagged himself with his toothbrush and threw up.
• Then Landon pooped in the potty for the first time ever. Remembering all the times I encouraged him by saying, “If you go poop you get to use toilet paper,” he reached down into the toilet and wiped the floater with toilet paper.
• Ninety minutes after Jack first got in bed, he came downstairs after reading his Oh Yuck! book. “Did you know that sweetbreads aren’t really bread and they’re not very sweet? They don’t even have sugar in them!”

It could always be worse.