Walk into the bedroom this evening, discover Little Kid has taken over said bedroom, and origami projects have taken over my bed.
"MOM. I'm kind of in a bad mood right now."
I walk past him, enter the bathroom. Ask him to explain.
He starts to explain.
And I cut him off.
"I'm sorry. We interrupt your bad mood in progress for this announcement. I JUST SAT IN YOUR PEE."
[I have omitted the scream of surprise that preceded my announcement. Mainly because I can't be bothered to figure out how to spell it phonetically.]
For the record, it was a lot of pee. And (unfortunately) I have ample basis for comparison.
And so it is that ninety seconds after entering the house, I was in the shower.
Some time thereafter, Spouse put chicken breasts stuffed with Hatch green chile tamales into the oven for our dinner. (By "our," I mean his and mine. Both kids opted for something less adventurous. I didn't fight them - mainly because we only had two chicken breasts.)
The chicken breasts were huge, and overstuffed. They took a LONG time to cook. Meanwhile, they filled the house with deliciousness, and made me very much aware of how hungry I was. The weird thing is, I couldn't smell the chicken, or the chiles - just the baking tamale aroma.
No sooner had I commented on this to Spouse, Big Kid came out of his room:
"I am suddenly craving pancakes. Or waffles. Something in that arena."
"No. Ick. Toast? I could go for toast."
"You're smelling the tamale stuffing in what Dad's cooking for us. But, totally agreed that it's very pancake-y."
"Would you consider making pancakes at this juncture?"
"Just one pancake?"
"Even less of a fan of making one pancake than several."
"YES. I distinctly remember seeing canned biscuits in the fridge. Baby -"
Spouse (who was eavesdropping from a room away) was already on it.
And so it is that I washed down a tamale-stuffed chicken breast with two buttermilk biscuits tricked out with butter and honey. And then I washed THOSE down with a delightful Cotes des Gascogne. Because once you've gone carb, you know?
Pee-sitting incident: water under the bridge. Or urine under the buttocks. Whatevs.