Five Minutes 

by Angie Clayton  

I was watching the grandbabies the other day. They were seated nicely at my kitchen counter, Lexi painting and Mason coloring … all was well. Mason seemed to have accepted the fact that I was NOT going to let him paint. My phone rang. Chaos ensued. I swear to you that I was only on the phone for FIVE minutes, and all this happened:

Lexi exclaimed, “I have to go potty NOW!”

So, I let her down from the barstool and she made a beeline for the bathroom. Since the paints were still out, I had to stay with Mason, but I followed her to the stairs so I could watch and make sure she was getting herself “undone” (pajamas, onesie, underwear, a lot to deal with if you really have to GO). I turned back around and Mason had not only crawled from his stool onto Lexi’s so as to get at the paints, but he was in the process of tipping it over and free-falling to the hardwood floor. I’m still on the phone but not talking or listening … I rescue Mason from the worst of the fall, use my shoulder to hold the phone and get the chair upright.

I walk back to the bottom of the stairs to check on Lexi, and somehow in this tiny amount of time, she had completely undressed herself except for her underwear, and was standing in front of the bathroom sink with the water running. Still on the phone, not talking or listening. Why didn’t I just hang up?? I put Mason down, go up to the bathroom, and ask her what happened to the rest of her clothes. She said, “I was hot, so I took ‘em off and put my onesie and sockies in the waundry.” Uh, ok. Phone’s still on my shoulder, I am trying to turn the water off and get her to dry her hands so at least I can get her pajamas back on her, and while I’m doing that Mason slides in behind me and manages to unroll forty-five feet of toilet paper and flush the toilet twice before I even really comprehend that he’s in the room. FINALLY my brain engages … I get off the phone before any real disaster strikes.

I think I’m getting old … how do forty-somethings manage having little kids? I seriously could NOT do this every day anymore!! I did get a good laugh a couple of days later when I sorted my laundry and definitely found her onesie and socks in the basket – I had completely forgotten about them but she was right, she had put them in the waundry!! 

Angie Clayton is a freelance writer. She writes from her experiences with warmth and humor. She is lives in Kansas with her husband, and has two grown children and three small grandchildren who provide much of her inspiration! 

 Photo by Sharon McCutcheon from Pexels

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