Yesterday was kind of a hard day. I mean nothing really happened in particular, it was just that I ran out of patience at like 8 a.m. and as a result everything seemed to be a struggle. And so, I WELCOMED bedtime with great excitement. ONE was administered a bath and tucked into bed right on time. I closed his door with relief, sat on the couch, and zoned out for about 10 minutes. And then, I heard it.

Mommy? Moooooommy.

I thought that he was maybe thirsty or had a question or it was too dark in there. But as I opened the door, the smell of Vicks BabyRub smacked me in the face. My son was standing there in the dark, covered in it. I mean, covered with a thick layer. All over his face, in his ears and hair, and on his hands and arms. Seriously.

Then I saw the bed. And the stuffed animals. He was thorough, that’s for sure. He emptied that entire container and coated everything he possibly could. He got every last bit of it out. Every. Last. Bit.

Apparently, I left it on his dresser when I put him to bed. I guess he  just went crazy with it, but then freaked out when it started to burn. Thankfully, my mother helped me get everything cleaned up and that is probably the only reason why I didn’t completely LOSE. IT. I wish I’d taken a picture, but alas. I was concerned his skin was going to burn off.

The house still smells of Vicks, 16 hours later. My dad gave me a big hug afterwards and then started laughing hysterically. I tried to laugh. I could not. Maybe in a few days. But not now.

My parents seem to be enjoying our visit. Let’s see how they feel after a few more “incidents.”

(source)