He Did WHAT? GOTTAGOBYE!

My sister in law is a school teacher so she has some time on her hands to come hang out and visit, and since my car is STILL in the shop (going on 2 weeks now), I have a serious need for company. Auntie and I visited for a bit, and then she followed me upstairs to hang out while I cleaned the master bath sinks and counter.

My best friend (also a teacher) called to share the news that her daughter had just gotten her ears pierced -- "Without even flinching!" -- and I was relaying the news to Auntie when Megan called out from downstairs, "MOM! Thomas is in the bleach!"

Holy clean clothes, Batman!

I flew down those stairs hollering, "He's WHAT? Gottagobye!" and hanging up on Cari (who is used to an abrupt hang up or two) and discovered that Thomas had, indeed, been in the bleach.

The good news? He'd tried to help. He'd poured all the rest of the bleach into the washer. I know that there was about a third of a bottle in there yesterday, or maybe a quarter, so when I say "all the rest," I mean all the rest: The jug was empty.

Unfortunately, the washer was NOT empty.

No, I had washed a load of darks... dark darks, to be precise... and the washer had just spun to a merry stop moments before.

I peeked inside, hardly daring to hope, and saw puddles of bleach on the edge of the machine, a lake in the fabric softener dispenser, and interesting blotches and speckles all over all the clothes.

Auntie had raced down the stairs after me, and she kept saying, "Oh my God, I am so sorry, Jules!"

There was nothing to be done; I added some more detergent (out of habit, I guess -- I think all the clothes are goners) and ran a cold cycle to get rid of the bleach in the machine. Then I called Thomas to me and told him in a firm voice that he was not to touch the washer or the cabinet where the cleaners were -- kind of a closing the barn door once the cows have escaped, but what else could I do? -- and double checked that the door to the laundry room was indeed locked.

Sigh.

I know he was trying to help. He had no idea what havoc he was wreaking when he poured the stuff in...

I know the door is usually locked, and the ONE time it wasn't, he spotted his chance... it was a fluke.

I know that I cannot watch him every second of every day, and that he is more closely supervised than most toddlers -- but I still feel partly guilty about the incident.

Sigh.

I had hoped to show off the clean counter to Matt and say, "TA-DA! See what I got done today?" but now I think that is going to pale in light of the other "news" from our day.

Two more weeks to summer school.

Sigh.

Oh, and I called Cari back to let her know the reason I had abruptly hung up on her, but she was unavailable... she was getting her massage. (No, I am NOT bitter... who said that? LOL She totally deserves it after a year of teaching 6th graders in a middle school!)