Well, last night I had a moment. I had just given sweet Tanner his sleepy meds, he was going through his nighty-night ritual of laying down by the vacuum, basking in the heat of the exhaust. He was well on his way to oblivion. So of course this was the perfect time for mom to take a nice, relaxing bath and listen to some nice, relaxing music. So I lounged blissfully for a good 40 minutes.
The house was quiet, the vacuum was turned off and Tanner was asleep. Or was he? I went to check on him while still in my towel, confident that I could just kiss him goodnight and then watch NETFLIX. As I peered into the living room with my usual expectations I was hit with such a sight as to completely paralyze my senses. The couch was overturned. The table was on it's side. And there was Tanner, stark naked sitting in the middle of a pile of shredded cheese. There was cheese on the carpet, there was cheese in his hair, there was cheese in his lap, there was cheese in his crack and there was probably a pound of cheese in his stomach. All I know is that an empty 2 pound bag of finely shredded, mild cheddar cheese was found in the vicinity. Next to him was a gallon of orange juice in which he had methodically stuffed bits of cheese into. As I stood in the doorway in a speechless stupor he looked up at me and smiled sheepishly as if saying, "well, what did you expect?"
Of course it's all my fault. My job is to keep Tanner from getting into stuff and Tanner's job is to find the loopholes (me not locking the fridge). I just wonder why I always loose at this game?
This is a picture of what I expected. I was too flummoxed to document what I found.
