Yesterday was one of those days.
Girlfriend put half a tub of Vaseline on her head, and then for good measure, she smeared it onto the kitchen floor too.
The Vaseline, not her head.
Two baths later and she still had a greasy jerry curl... for real.
I was all out of ideas and putting off giving her yet another bath when we started baking... nothing says, "I'm Procrastinating..." like baking with a toddler.
You know how this story goes... I turn my back for ONE SECOND... and crack, crack, crack.... three eggs on the floor.
Twenty minutes later, because the floor hadn't been through enough with the Vaseline and the hat-trick of egg slamming... I decided to drop half a gallon of milk on it.
The milk didn't just land on the floor... it went all the way up to the ceiling, and down the walls... cause ya know, it's liquid, and it splats.
So I mopped the walls, and then they dried a different color than the rest of the room.
Of course they did.
And the flying milk didn't just land on the walls, it also went all over my greasy Vaseline head child... who just stood there in her brother's rain boots with milk dripping down her forehead like...
Blink. blink. blink...
In case you're wondering... the milk did nothing to help get the oil spill off her hair.
And I just can't... I can't even... How could I get mad at this stuff??...
So I didn't... instead I laughed...
Like laughed my ass off...
And my greasy daughter is standing there covered in milk giving me a blank stare and blinking at me like... "This is not the time to go insane! I am covered in milk! Stop laughing and CLEAN ME UP!"
I'm looking back at her, with tears running down my face because I am laughing so hard that now I'm crying... and I just can't even believe that this shit happens to me in real life.
I spent a few minutes fanning my face and crossing my legs to stop myself from peeing on my feet...
And when I finally pulled myself together, we headed upstairs for bath number 3; which got rid of the milk, but not the Vaseline.
And as far as I was concerned, this was a small victory, because at least I knew for sure that no matter what the rest of the day had in store for us, and our kitchen floor... there was no way in Hell my little grease ball was going to get her head stuck anywhere.