So that's what the problem is...there is something wrong with his brain!

Yesterday was one of those parenting days (or, more accurately, evenings) that leave me in need of a good stiff drink at bedtime. Ross (why is it always Ross?) had a little incident. He's, obviously, been potty trained for a very long time. Lately we've been having accidents -- about every other week or so -- because he gets too busy to go potty and can't make it there in time (though luckily he can usually make it to the bathroom, so it is the bathroom floor bearing the brunt of this problem). He's also taken to not telling us about these accidents, because he doesn't want to get lectured (or yelled at, if I'm being totally honest). Sometimes he'll try to clean it up himself and sometimes he just goes on with life and pretends that his pants really aren't wet. Unfortunately, he's at an age where I don't hover over him every second of the day so sometimes he goes on playing in his room or in the basement playroom for quite a while before I catch on. Yeah...can we just all say "ewwwwwww" together. I am having an overwhelming urge to bleach every inch of my house RIGHT NOW.

Anyway...back to last night. We finished dinner rather late, so the kids only had about a 1/2 hour to play between the end of dinner and when we started cleaning up for bed. Most of that time I spent doing the dinner dishes. As I was getting Ross undressed, I noticed that he had poop on the FRONT of his underwear. Yeah...not a good sign! I continued to investigate (watching in horror as chunks of debris fell out on his bedroom carpet), only to realize that he had poop all up his backside. I asked him if he pooped his pants and his answer was, "Yeah, the last time I went potty, but don't worry, Mom, I cleaned it up." Sure, Ross, sure you did. Now, what was especially funny was the way he said it, as if he was telling me something nice and pleasant, just the same as if he were telling me that he put his shoes away and made his bed.

I marched him to the bathroom to put him in the shower and then realize that, yes indeed, he had made a huge mess in the bathroom and, yes indeed, he had attempted to clean it up. There was poop on what seemed like everything, especially the floor. So, while he was showering I took the time to really clean the bathroom, getting more ticked off with every passing second. I got him out the shower and laid into him with a lecture on his needing to tell his dad and I when he needed help. I asked him, "Why didn't you tell me you had an accident?" His dead serious response was this, "I don't know, Mom, there must be something wrong with my brain."

And that did it. You can't yell when you're laughing (on the inside anyway). How can you be mad at that? I vacillated all evening between feeling bad that he might think there is something wrong with his brain and utter amusement that he thought he could claim brain damage as a good excuse for making a massive mess.

Sigh...what am I going to do with him? And, as a side note, between the Ross messes and the fact that Lucy has taken to playing in the bathroom sink, I'm actually considering locking the bathroom door so that the kids have to ask for my help each time they go in so that I can monitor the situation better. That sounds like a punishment for me more so than for them, though...