Buckets of Giggles

As I gracefully single parented tonight, we had what some might call a disaster in our bathroom. I prefer to think of it as help with cleaning.

I was burping Grant in the hallway, where it was a little darker than the bright and giggly bathroom during bath time, where he'd been trying to fall asleep, exhausted from growing another tooth over the weekend. His tilly tisters were having fun pouring pishies (plastic fish) of bubble water over each other's head. All the sudden, the noise level went up about 20 decibles.

Huge splashes!

Uproarious laughter!

Little girl snorts!

Startled crying from Baby Grant!

Those crazy twins had grabbed the hair-rinsing bucket and were pouring bathwater onto the floor faster than you can imagine. All over the clean jammies I had laid out for them. And the dry diapers for the night. And the hoodie towels. And my pretty new slippers. In the few seconds it took for me lay Grant down in his crib, turn on his mobile, and race back in to the waterworks, every inch of bathroom floor was puddled. And the girls were laughing so hard they were out of breath and crying.

How can you yell when they're having so much fun? I tried really hard to have a stern face, but my goodness, their laughter was infectious! I thought about spankings, but honestly, they'd have been too slippery anyway. I just had to shake my head and herd the dripping girls into their bedroom to prepare for bedtime.

All I have to say is that at least it wasn't toilet water.