Yesterday I was slightly regretting the amount of trash talking the babies both Kent and I did in our talks in church on Sunday. I felt like maybe I should compensate by writing some rhapsody on my blog about how much I adore my Salty and Peppers, so that people wouldn’t get the wrong idea.
Then as I was posting about the Ice Storm, instead of watching Toy Story as was in their contract, they unleashed chocolate anthrax all over the kitchen.
Fluffy: Moooom! Come see what the boys are doing! They are being so naughty!
Somehow Salty had laid hands on the chocolate milk powder which I keep on top of the refrigerator supposedly out of his range. They had dumped about a third of it on the floor and started painting in it. They dumped another third on to the table, mixed it with cold cereal and were apparently building sand castles out of it. The final third, was dumped into a bowl from which Salty was eating Nesquik by the spoonful.
Since the whole place was contaminated, I had to strip them down to their skivvies (including Fluffy who had walked through the kitchen), wash their faces, hands and feet, then lock them in their bedroom while I spent half an hour wiping, sweeping, vacuuming and finally mopping. It was one of those messes that I was initially dumbstruck by. “I don’t know how to clean this without making it worse. This wasn’t in the manual.”
So, yeah. Maybe we didn’t go far enough in expressing how troublesome this pair is up in here. We love them something fierce, of course. They’re just going through a difficult stage. It’s called childhood. Sometimes they are my sweetest little hearts, and sometimes a lump of coal is too good for them.