David invited a co-worker from out of town to come have supper with us this evening and watch American Idol. (She is an avid fan of the show like me and he thought it would be more fun for her to watch with us rather than alone in her hotel room).
I raced home from work, threw the kids in the bath, put some squash and chicken on to boil, and tore through the downstairs with the vacuum like a mad woman. I combed through the girls hair, pulled off Tate's jammies he dressed himself in after his bath, and exchanged it for something a bit more appropriate for entertaining.
I was a frazzled mess by the time our guest arrived but greeted her at the door with a smile.
One would think we hide our kids in a closet and never let them encounter people from the outside world the way they descend upon each and every unsuspecting guest who enters our home.
They drag them up to their room, have an impromptu show and tell with all their toys, pull out all their books and plop themselves down on their laps for a story. Or they put on a talent show choosing to either showcase their singing ability or somersault ability...it's a toss up.
I was putting the finishing touches on the meal as everyone gathered in the living room. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Drue burst through the kitchen and head towards the guest bathroom. Ugh. It is next to impossible for my kids to exit a bathroom leaving it in the same condition as when they entered it. There is the forgotten flush, the crumpled towel on the floor, the smeared soap or toothpaste on the mirror and/or wall, the toilet paper pulled out to the end of the roll. So I made a mental note to dash in after she finished so I could fix the damage.
But she was out in a flash. Too fast to have wrecked anything. And definitely too fast to have done her deed. She tiptoed up to me and whispered proudly in my ear, "I held my toot all the way until I made it to the bathroom!".
Small victories are celebrated around these parts!