The other day, Lily was looking at a magazine and stopped to ask me, "Mom, what's this?" She was pointing to an ad of a woman mopping the kitchen floor. Okay, so maybe I'm not the greatest housekeeper, which is maybe why my children felt they needed to help me out. Two weeks ago, I was on the living room couch with Henry, while Oscar and Lily played in the kitchen. It was quiet for a while (which we all know is a bad sign), then I heard laughing, what sounded like falling, crying, laughing again, then, "It's too slippery!" I entered the kitchen and about did the splits, which felt great on my postpartum thighs. My children had poured about a half a bottle of Ivory Dishwashing Liquid Soap all over the kitchen floor. At moments like these, I think you can either laugh or cry. That day, I chose to laugh. Lily and Oscar looked at me for a second, then decided it was okay to laugh too. I put them in the bath, because of course Lily had soap in her eyes, which was adding to the drama, and the bath was the only place I could think to contain them. Henry went in the bouncer and my nice neighbor, Monica watched all three while I attacked the floor.
Wow, that stuff is concentrated. 45 minutes later, the kitchen floor was still lathered in soap suds and I gave up. At least the floor was really clean.
