A Tale of Butter

Just part of having a boy I guess. How else would I have a tale of butter?

One recent afternoon, the kids were in their room playing. I called in "you guys okay in there?"- I couldn't quite make out Aynsley's reply but I did pick up a few words of it.....I heard the word "Tristan" and "play" and "butter" and my heart skipped a beat because those 3 words together could never be good. What I found was a container like the one pictured above, softened,

dumped out on the carpet and big gooey chunks of it smeared all over in large areas of the carpet. Butter dripping on Dora's van, butter on the art table, even butter in the grooves of Superman's cape. To make matters worse, he had added water to the mix, which

makes butter go a long way, in case you ever need to know.

Now, Kool-aid is one thing. Coffee even. The carpet has endured both.

Butter is another thing all together. It'll make a mother flip her lid.

I do not have pictures of the mess b/c as you can imagine, I was not in a picture kind of mood at the time. It's all comical now but I'll confess that I wasn't the mother that Dr. Dobson would've been proud of in that moment. I had a friend tell me she was proud of me that I still have a son breathing. Tis True.

I didn't grab my camera for the mess but I did grab it this morning

as my "carpet man" (Tristan's term) tried diligently to get out the butter.

Is that even possible ya think?

Let's just say that for the last several days, after walking in his room, you feel like you've got a thin layer of something on your feet. Very unpleasant.

I know what some of you are thinking...how did my son get the butter ?

This I do not know. I have a feeling that my angelic Aynsley (the teller of the tale remember)

might have something to do with it.

So, he's been the culprit of lipstick in the Suburban and butter in the bedroom.

He's only 3....what's next?

Nevermind, don't tell me.