I stuffed laundry into the washer.
I shoved in as many towels as I could because Cade would be home and I didn't want him thinking I'm a slacker who writes all day. The Zombie Elf pleaded with me. "Pee pee. No spank. Mama say, no! No!"
"You need to go potty?" I took off his pants. "Run, baby. Come back and I'll put your pants on again. There's no spank." The Zombie Elf is a smart little boy. I grinned as his naked butt bounded toward the stairs. He growled at the door, punched it, then jumped from my sight. "Just don't pee on the floor and walls again!" Lately I've learned that little boys are a whole different breed. If I have to clean pee off the wall--ONE MORE TIME! Isn't it enough they can pee standing? Do they need to show off to the world? I'm not saying I'm jealous, it's that the kid needs to perfect his aim or . . . I'm going to die.
Anyway, I stuffed in more towels--a miracle in itself--and when I turned around, The Zombie Elf was back like a boomerang. I put my hands on my hips. "You're fast, but you're not that fast. Go potty!" I motioned toward the door, shooing my toddler the same way I'd treat a dog.
He wouldn't have any of that, and pointed to some dirty towels by my feet. "Dirty?" He cocked his head and widened his eyes like a confused pigeon. "Dirty? Dirty. Dirty."
"Yes, parrot boy! Those towels are dirty, now run to the potty so there's no spank." I threw in some soap and shut the lid, so happy I'd fit half the towels in. I wanted to celebrate and do one of those Irish jigs on the washer. I imagined Cade coming home. He'd take a shower and when he asked for a towel he'd get a hot one that smelled spring fresh! I smiled about that, because being a mom has its little victories every day. Sometimes, if you play the "spring fresh" card, you can feel like a super hero . . . who can't fly. That's how I felt then, thinking how Cade would congratulate me about the towels AND dinner, but my joy was short-lived.
Things turned sour when I heard A WATERFALL CASCADING BEHIND ME! I heard it first, then felt it on my foot. I gasped, stared at the golden stream, then turned my eyes to the noise maker--The Zombie Elf!
His hands rested on the small of his back. He peed with excitement. "Laundry dirty. Laundry sooo dirty," he chanted and sprayed circles across my favorite towels, the ones that were going to make Cade love me. I gasped, but my boy didn't care that I'd reached super hero status and fallen back to mortality once again. A smile lit his face and he giggled, actually giggled.
"What are you doing!"
"Mama say 'go potty.' I go potty." He finished, did a little shake, jump thing and said, "Towels so dirty." His smile reached across his face; his eyes sparkled and for the life of me, I couldn't stay mad even though he's my kryptonite. He ran away and it's horrible, but as his naked butt vanished from the room, I couldn't help but smile too.
So, The Zombie Elf peed on his first pile of laundry and I realized super heros who can't fly aren't that great anyway.
I still can't believe my boy. At least I needed to wash those towels anyway.