He Blogs, I Blot

It's 8 am at the home of Dinosaur Trader.

"So, what are you guys up to today?" he asks.

"We have Toddler Yoga at ten," I reply.

"Oh, alright. (Sigh!) I'm going to WORK. See you later."

My two year old daughter and I go downstairs. We have two hours to get out of the house. No problem. We let the quarantined cat out of the bathroom.

"Hey William, did you go in the box? Did you?" I ask. Yes, thankfully, he did.

"Good boy, good boy," I say as I stroke his back. He looks pissed anyway.

Scoop and flush.

We follow William down to the basement and spend the next twenty minutes watching his every move for signs that he might "go". He sniffs around and looks up at us skeptically.

My daughter then announces that she has to "go". We rush upstairs and make it to the potty just in time. "Good job, good job," I say.

Dump and flush.

"That stain in the playroom is still there," DT yells down from the office.

The cat vomit stain from yesterday hasn't faded. I get some wet paper towels, kneel down and blot. Nothing.

I try baby wipes. Blot. Club soda. Blot.

As I am walking through the living room I notice some fresh cat vomit from this morning. "No wonder why we go through so many paper towels," I mutter to myself. Blot.

I make breakfast, play "cash register", pick up a phone call from my mother. We are in the midst of making plans for her birthday when I let out a yelp. I watch as my daughter proudly pees all over the new sofa.

"I gotta call you back mom!" More paper towels.

Blot. Clean Water. Blot. Ammonia Solution. Blot. Dish Detergent Solution. Blot. Clean Water. Blot.

I continue to blot and pray.

DT comes down to get a cup of tea before the market opens.

"I am so tired of cleaning up excrement," I say as I rinse out my daughter's wet clothes.

"You could write about that on my blog tonight." DT says. "I'm not going to trade today anyway. Writing about 'shit' is actually perfect."

He runs up to catch the opening bell and we rush out to yoga class.

Ding Ding. Namaste.