Another One for Saint Bombeck

I should have known Bear was going to make the day interesting. When I wouldn't pop cheerfully out of bed at ridiculous o'clock, he passed the time between notifying me he was awake and me actually getting up by crawling into my bed and emptying an entire container of dental floss.

I found myself hoping it was a full container, because that would buy me a few extra seconds in bed.

I wanted to sneak in a quick shower before his OT arrived. As I was getting into the shower I saw him trot by carring a $40 tube of skin cream. With the cap off. I yelled to him that it wasn't food and moved on.

He popped his head in once to register his displeasure, but other than a random scream (that I've come to learn means "how dare the dog eat my cracker after I spent the last 5 minutes waving it in his face") the shower was uneventful. Quiet, even.

So. I open the shower curtain. To find Bear clinging to the edge of my bathroom sink with his feet on a stepstool. A stepstool that's hanging off the edge of another stepstool at a ridiculous angle. The whole mess is on a rug, which is slowly sliding away from the sink. He's got his daddy's toothbrush in his mouth.

I grabbed a towel and calmly asked if he needed help. He nodded solemnly, daddy's toothbrush bobbing up and down. I rescued him, noting the open bottle of Aveeno lotion he'd apparently been using as toothpaste. He grinned and moved onto the next item on his agenda.

Which, as far as I could tell, involved drinking the contents of the dog bowl one toothbrushful at a time.

While I was getting dressed he took a break from his 'toothbrush as beverage delivery device' experiment to see if he could get the dog to drink from the toothbrush. I suppose it makes sense - the water was from her bowl. She didn't see it that way.

As I headed downstairs to do my thrice-weekly panicked pre-therapist arrival cleanup he was sitting inside my bathroom cabinet, methodically removing the contents and lining them up on the floor.

After he ran out of lotions to arrange, he came downstairs, brought his stepstool over to the bananas strategically stored out of his reach and stole one. He was so proud of himself he forgot he wasn't supposed to be stealing bananas, brought it over triumphantly and dropped the peel onto my keyboard.