One afternoon, my wife and I were cleaning our pool. Because when you are an adult and have a pool, most of the time when you are in it you are cleaning it.
*sidebar the pool has since exploded
Leah and I were in the pool cleaning it when my youngest child, Marley, burst out the back doors yelling,”THERE’S BEEN A HORRIBLE ACCIDENT!” Smoke began pouring out the back of the house. She reminded me of John C Reilly in the movie Stepbrothers when the bunk bed collapsed on Will Ferrell. I shot out of the pool and made it into the house first.
A week earlier we had taught Marley how to use the microwave. She had tried to cook some mini sausage biscuits just like we had shown her. However, instead of cooking them for 30 seconds she cooked them for 30 minutes. The whole house was filled with smoke. My son, McKade, ran into the kitchen, smelled the smoke, & immediately vomited all over the kitchen floor. Then ran into the backyard.
My wife is what I affectionately refer to as a contact vomiter. If she smells vomit, talks about vomit, or even thinks about it, she will get sick. She came running into the house after my son ran out. She hit the door and slipped and fell into his vomit. Then proceeded to get sick all over herself and the kitchen.
All the while, my oldest daughter, Addison, is sitting at the kitchen counter watching Elmo. She is unfazed by the myriad of events literally exploding all around her.
Sometimes the 600 kids I have at school are easier than the 3 I have at home.
May HOPE be with you,