A case of perfect timing

Last night, Liam showed the initiative to wear underpants to bed, and against my better judgement we decided to let him try it. I mean, far be it from us to discourage the final phase of potty training, right? Except that I knew he probably wasn't ready, and sure enough, he wasn't. When I got up this morning I went into his room to wake him before he had the chance to wake himself and whiz in his pants before he was really aware that he was not wearing a diaper. Of course, I was too late. He was already soaked down to his toes and up to his armpits, having seemingly drunk something by the gallon before going to bed last night, and he was chilled enough to indicate that he had been like that for some time. He was also perfectly happy. Why he refuses to come get some help from us at times like that is beyond me.

Anyway, we stripped off the bed, threw some stuff in the wash and other stuff on the floor (to decide whether to dry clean or just plain toss out; there was pee on the duvet, on the pillow...) We high tailed it out the door. And wouldn't you know it, today was the day we got five minutes to pull the house together before a showing. Just enough time to cover the duvet and throw it back on the bed (aired out, though not really clean); no sheets, no pee pillow, and no mattress protector (NOTE TO SELF: do NOT forget to put that back on before bed tonight!!) I hope there were no hairs in the bathroom sink and no crumbs on the kitchen counter, but Liam's bedroom was top priority today.

It's been that kind of a week. Yesterday I hauled butt into the office half an hour early, dreaming of what I'd do on my Friday off this week, only to discover that the summer hours don't start until NEXT week and my first Friday off is not until two weeks later. *groan*