So, here at Casa de Crenshaw, we ran out of juice. *Imagine my three-year-old's world collapsing around him. The sun is setting permanently, with no hope for a bright outcome.* My husband has an obsession with the neon colored drinks that are derived from powdered envelopes... You know what I'm talking about... right? (Hint: OH YEAAAAAAH!) Of course, we had a few
thousand envelopes in the pantry. I made a GIANT 4 gallon pitcher of the tropical punch variety, as if my ONE child would consume as much as a little league team. Anywho, the son was satisfied and I went back to.... (I don't know what I typically do on a normal basis. Just a bunch of tomfoolery usually or watching totally awesome videos like
this.)
Fast forward to the next night. I smell something UNGODLY coming from the pint-sized version of my hubster. I follow my nose to his pants and it hit me with a "WAAAAABAAAAAAAM!" and other Ka-powies, you know the awesome graphics from
the classic Batman show.
I lay the kiddo down and let's just say he deuced a red pile of $&!+. Dyl(an) kept saying, "It hurts!" And I was honestly trying to keep my eyes shut and nose covered so the smell wouldn't burn anything important on my face. I finally looked once his bottom was cleaned and there it was... The OH YEAH
juice crap liquid I was giving him over the last day and a half has stained his derriere. Sigh.
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