He who laughs last, laughs hardest
On Sunday Joseph and I were hanging out in the kitchen. I was washing the mountain of dishes that accumulate hourly (seriously - ask my mom), and Joseph was playing with whatever he could get his hands on. I had a pack of root beer on the floor and he thought a can would be fun to play with. I saw him, went over there, decided it wasn't worth a tantrum, and told him to "be careful".
Note: I say that to him all the time, but he definitely doesn't know what it means.
Not 1 minute later, there was a bang as the can hit the floor, then it exploded and sprayed everywhere. The look of horror and terror on Joseph's face was HILARIOUS. He shreaked, flailed about, and tried to scamper away unsuccessfully. I am a terrible mother, but I laughed. It was so funny.
Well, the last laugh was on me, of course. There was root beer all over me, Joseph, the cabinets, the walls, the floor, the table, chairs, high chair, my CLEAN dishes, etc...
So after sticking to the floor for 2 days while re-washing the mountain of dishes, I finally caved tonight and washed the floor tonight at 10pm.
You win, Joseph. You win again.