We Have a Winner, Folks! (And by "winner," I mean the "worst toddler in history.") : One More Time

And this is how The Animal ended up with his moniker. I posted this at the beginning of December, '08, but it actually occurred during the considerably warmer, riper month of September. I still shudder when I think about this:

When CC (my oldest, now nine) was just a little toddler he once knocked over a Venti Mocha from Starbucks that I had absent-mindedly left in his vicinity. It has stood out as the single worst spill in our house for almost EIGHT years. It was wretchedly sticky, milky, chocolaty and just god-awful to clean up from the rug and hardwoods that it somehow managed to cover about 50 square feet of.

Well, folks, the Venti Mocha just got topped.

The Animal, my robust two-year-old, never one to rest on the laurels of his older brothers, has staked his claim as the Worst Toddler in History with his latest exploit. Shall I set the stage a bit? I picked up Animal from preschool and then made a little stop at Trader Joe's to pick up a few groceries (my kids would eat the Mandarin Orange Chicken every night, if I let them). We got home, the Animal ran in and started playing with his cars while I unloaded the bags and started to unpack the groceries. I then wandered off to check my email (what? Like you've never done that?). Barely a minute later I hear a suspiciously wet sound (uh-oh!) from the living room and run to go see what happened.

"What the?!? IAMGOINGTOF***ING KILLYOUSCREAM!!!!" (I think it would be fair to say that) I howled.

Since I didn't see the little you-know-what actually do the deed, I have to piece together what happened from the evidence.... As far as I can tell, he got the newly purchased carton of buttermilk from where I had left it on the counter, put the quart on it's side atop the coffee table, got himself onto the coffee table and then JUMPED ON THE BUTTERMILK. This is what I found when I entered the room: buttermilk on the couch, the chair, the ottoman, the buffet, the TV, the tv console, splattered across the floors, the walls, needless to say the coffee table, and, most tragically, soaking into the kilim rug.

Oh. My. God. For those of you who don't bake and aren't sure what buttermilk is like: It is not the same viscosity as milk. It is more like kefir or a fruit smoothie, but with milky, cheese-y particles in it. Particles, that I assure you from *personal experience* catch in every fiber of a woven rug. Oh, yeah, and it stinks. Stinks to the high heavens....

Unbelievable, right? I mean who comes up with this shit, anyway?? Does this happen to other people, or do I really have the most inventively sadistic toddler on Earth?

Resolution, per 2/27/09: I still can't believe that this happened. And pray to God that it will never be topped. I did get all the buttermilk out of that rug, though. I brought it outside, hung it over a fence and power-washed every particle out. I dusted it with Febreze before replacing it in the living room and it has been A-OK since. :)