Life LesSON no. 795

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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