I forgot where I was going with this….

1. Surf the internet
2. See the following headline: Dirtier than a toilet?  with a picture of a keyboard.
3. Without clicking on the link, jump up and run to the bathroom for disinfectant, muttering “OH DEAR GOD!” on the way.
4. Thoroughly disinfect keyboard and mouse and anything else in it’s path.
5. Return disinfectant to bathroom, pausing at cabinet to decide you probably weren’t thorough enough and could have missed a spot.
6. Disinfect keyboard again and return disinfectant to bathroom.
7. Settle back in seat and click on link.
8. See sub headline: Bacteria Thrive on Keyboards, Mousepads, Phones and jump back up and head for the bathroom again.
9. Disinfect phones. Yep. Twice.
10. Return to chair again and settle in to read article. Recoil in horror at the thought of millions of bacteria and the comparison to public faucets and shopping cart handles. It’s almost enough to drive one back to the bathroom for another round of disinfecting.
11. At this point realize that you’ve sat back down and started using mouse and keyboard, but can’t remember if hands have been disinfected.
12. Jump up again and run to sink for surgical hand wash.
13. Consider where else house might need to be disinfected now…..

We told son #2 it was time for his bath. A short time later he was found trying to hide under an end table. Steve can be somewhat sympathetic, as his own sister followed the “I can’t see you, you can’t see me” philosophy well beyond a rational age. She would wander out of bed, with a blanket over head, certain that she was invisible. So Steve crouches down to the end table and calmly says: “Son! You are not four years old anymore. Your seven year old body does not fit under the table. You are quite visible under there.” And from under the table? (giggle) “No I’m not.” Sigh. I think it’s hereditary.

Whatever Wednesday rules: Answer the question left by the person before you and leave a question for the next person. Play as many times as you wish. Anything goes. And it doesn’t have to be Wednesday to play.

First Question: What super hero powers did you think you had as a child? Invisibility? Ability to fly? Olympic potential?

Let me let you in on a little secret. Steve has barely functional OCD. Never try to load a dishwasher near him. Never try to mix colors in the laundry. The man has a problem. Last night? I tortured him. Our babysitter’s name is Rose. I reminded him that Rose was coming today. Apparently her name became a sudden trigger for his OCD, because every time I said “Rose” he had to say a line from Dr. Suess’ Fox in Socks- “crows rose grows some.” So our converstaion went something like this:

Me: Don’t forget Rose is coming tomorrow.
Steve: Crows rose grows some.
Me: What? Did you hear me? Rose is coming tomorrow.
Steve: Crows rose grows some. I heard. I have to say that when you say Rose.
Me: You what? You have to……Rose?
Steve: Crows rose grows some.
Me: Rose.
Steve: Crows rose grows some.
Me: Rose.
Steve: Crows rose grows some.
Me: (grinning evilly) So every time I say…Rose?
Steve: Crows rose grows some.
Me: (laughing) HA! Rose!
Steve: (laughing) Crows rose grows some.
Me: We need to go the REI sale- ROSE!
Steve: Crows rose grows some. Ok.
Me: We also are out of ROSE! toilet paper.
Steve: Crows rose grows some. We also need OJ.
Me: What about son #2’s shoes-ROSE!
Steve: Crows rose grows some. We can get those tomorrow too if you want.
Me: Ok goodnight, Rose.
Steve: (whispers) crows rose grows some.
Me: (whispers) rose
Steve: (whispers) crows rose grows some.

This morning it was no better.
Me: Son #2 seems to be feeling better, so I guess we’re still on for Rose?
Steve: Crows rose grows some. Yeah. I think he’s ok.
Me: Hmmm. Still with the Rose?
Steve: Crows rose grows some. Yes.
Me: Rose.
Steve: Crows rose grows some.
Me: Rose.
Steve: Crows rose grows some.

It’s going to be a long, Rose, day. ;D Oh and BTW? Plural or possesive form of Rose does not elicit a Suessian response, much to my disappointment.

This week’s art lesson consisted of watercolor paintings and using salt for a cool textural effect. I poured the salt into nasty containers from the art room that have had all manner of disgusting things in them. As I passed out the containers I said “DO NOT eat the salt! These containers have had very yucky things in them that DO NOT go in your bodies.” I look over to see a child is already licking the salt. I said again “I DO NOT want anyone eating the salt from the containers. The salt is to sprinkle in your paint.” Again, I see another child licking his lips. Are ya’ kidding me?

I said “If you heard what I said about the salt, raise your hand.” Doooode. Only half the fricken’ attention deficit first graders raised their hands. So I started calling on each child without a hand raised, one by one, saying “What did I say about the salt?” And after every single one of them finally had their hands raised I said “I’m gonna be pretty upset if I see anyone else eating salt now that I know every single one of you heard me.” I saw a kid eyeing the salt. I caught him with the death glare. “DO NOT eat the salt.”

So today? In fifth grade? Same thing except a Ralph Wiggum-like voice pipes up and says “But I like salt!” Sigh.