So, we're back here in St. Augustine after a wonderful, whirlwind trip to Chicago. Finally, a little rest and relaxation after a go, go, go trip. This was my expectation anyway. Unfortunately, the boys didn't get the memo. They were so rough and rowdy with each other that Jakob got a nosebleed right before bed, which was very distressing to me since his nosebleeds are often and interminable. A nosebleed before bed means a greatly postponed bedtime and at least one or two late night/early morning follow ups. Sure enough follow up one came around 4:50 a.m. where a sleepy, and therefore, selfish me told the boy just to shove a tissue up his nose and get back to bed. I should have known this was a foolish course to take if I wanted to prevent follow up number two, but when I am half asleep, my logic tends to be a little faulty. So, follow up number two happened around 6:30. Remarkably, Max was still asleep, so I tried to deal with Jakob as quietly as I could. I got him a cold rag for the back of his neck (the only thing that ever fully stops his nosebleeds) and got him back into bed once again. Unfortunately, he was wide awake and determined that his brother should be too. After about fifteen minutes of Jakob shuffling, jostling and coughing, Sleeping Beauty arose. This turned out to be a good thing because they both ran off downstairs to watch TV. I could finally get some sleep. But, just as I was drifting off, I remembered my mother's newly reupholstered couch and love seat. I ran downstairs as fast as my sleepy feet could carry me and issued the boys stern warnings. I told Jakob he could only sit on the tile floor or the easily cleaned naugahyde dining table chairs and I told Max that he could not wrestle, hit, kick or touch his brother in anyway that might cause another nosebleed. Finally, I could go back to sleep. Now, you would think my children would know by now that Mommy is mean as a snake in the morning, and therefore, only to be messed with at your peril, but I guess eight years is not enough time for that lesson to sink in. About an hour later Max came in to ask me where his DS was, which was bad enough, but shortly after that he came back in and said "Mommy, look what I can do with my tongue." I thought I was going to lose my mind. Thankfully, my dad took them out for a large part of the day and everything seemed to be going better until after dinner. When we got home Jakey took his shoes off and said "Oh, I fogot to mention that I stepped in some bwown stuff in the bafwoom at the westauwant." My mother investigated the bottom of Jake's shoe, quickly decided that the brown stuff was poo and proclaimed this was a Mommy Job. So I took the damn shoe outside and tried to rinse it off. Unfortunately, Jake had down a pretty thorough job of getting the poo in there so I had to find some implement strong enough to get it out. I found an ice scraper, a seemingly unlikely find in a Floridian utility closet, with a stiff brush on it and after four or five minutes, that did the trick. About a hour and a half hour later, it finally occurred to me that the source of the "bwown stuff" was probably Jake himself. When I gently inquired about this, he said he didn't "want to discuss it." An incriminating sentence on its own, but then he offered up this tidbit "when I went poo it wanded not neaw the toiwet." He also held up his hands to indicate exactly how "not near" the toilet the poo ended up. At this point, my father and I were laughing way too hard to continue any serious discussion about how the poo ended up where it did and what Jakob may or may not have done to rectify the situation. And, really, what good would it have done anyway, what's done it done. But, just to be safe, I don't think we'll be eating there again anytime soon, the potential of being scorned as the "Poo party" is too great. It really is a shame. They're wings are really good.
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