(03:42:42 PM) Jackie: do you know what your son did!?
(03:46:06 PM) Jesse Morgan: ?
(03:52:19 PM) Jackie: we made it to KFC, he was good. He fell asleep in the car and woke up slightly when we got here. He went back to bed oh so well. That was my first mistake
(03:53:09 PM) Jackie: he says he has to go to the bathroom. Much to my dismay, he already had and had spent a few minutes painting his wall and window

That was two days ago. Needless to say, Ian hasn’t had a fun two days. He lost a bunch of toys, no dessert, etc. and while I knew I hadn’t gotten through to him, I at least thought we’d discouraged him from ever doing it again.

Silly daddy.

So here’s the timeline:

6:30am: Ian wakes up, pounds on his door, Jackie lets him into our room, turns on saturday morning cartoons for him, and he sits in his chair. This is routine. He gets some cheese from the fridge, is well behaved, and generally smells like a rose. I am still unconscious, oblivious to the world, and Jackie goes back to sleep.

8:00am: Ian drops a deuce in his footie pajamas. Rather than let us know, he squishes it around until it oozes out the top of his diaper like a $20 playdoh toy. He’s still in footie pajamas, so it’s contained.

8:15am: Ian starts jumping around the bed and all over jackie. I vaguely wake up when he climbs over end of the bed and Jackie starts screaming at him. I comment something smells like shit and roll back over. Jackie sits him back down and goes back to sleep. At this point neither of us has really “woken up.”

8:30am: Tired of sitting in his own filth, he strips out of his poo-covered pajamas and throws them downstairs. Thankfully the weight of this excrement makes it land like a badminton birdie, and it folded over on itself when it hit, sealing in the sludge.

8:31am: realizing his hands are now covered in poop, Ian comes into MY BEDROOM and proceeds to do cave paintings on the mirror in our bedroom (the closet door).

8:32am: hands “clean”, the boy sits down in Jackie’s 40+ year old rocking chair, smearing his crap all over the 1960’s fabric. As he sits down, shit is smeared down the edge of our bed and bedding, where the chair rests.

8:35am: Ian wants to “climb in bed and cuddle with the baby,” and proceeds to climb on top of jackie’s side of the bed and across her pillow. The thing you have to understand is our bed is in the corner, so I am separated from all of this. Jackie opens her eyes and sees his fecal stained hands and rightly freaks the fuck out. She grabs Ian and runs to the bathroom. I bolt upright and see the turdstains on her side of the bed AND PILLOW. I put on my glasses and look towards the foot of the bed and see the poo on the mirror.

8:40am: At this point Jackie has ian on his potty seat, which looks like a truckstop crapper.I call her in to see the mirror and she goes off. I survey the room looking for other sources of the stench, and see the edge of our $1500 bed smeared with shit as well as the chair, I go numb.

We then spend the next hour cleaning, bleaching, washing and scolding.

Did I mention Jackie’s having a bunch of people over today? Yeah, she’s having a party… and our house smells like shit and bleach.