When Bright Kids . . . Do Not-So-Bright Things

This morning I was finishing up in the shower when I heard a blood-curdling scream. My mombrain immediately chimed, "So help me, if those two don't stop fighting I am going to . . . " when K comes rushing into my bedroom yelling, "M just sprayed himself with Lysol and it got in his eyes!"

Wha . . . ?!!

M rushes into my room, right behind her, panicking, covering his eyes and whimpering.

Are you freaking kidding me?? All right, you all KNOW I have a can of Lysol handy because of all the germs we seem to be hosting as of late, but of course it is up, out of the way so someone like, oh, X wouldn't play with it. But really? M?

Apparently I give my son way too much credit for having common sense.

Of course I zipped him right into the shower and instructed him to hold his little eyeballs under the running water until further notice. I asked him how big of a spray it was: a quick psh spray or a big pshhhhhhhhhhhhh spray? It was a quick one (I kind of figured).

Upon further investigation, Homeslice had been "looking" at the can and pretending to spray both K and X with it, all while they sat eating their waffles at the breakfast table.

Can I tell you how lucky the little devil is that he didn't accidentally spray one of his siblings? Can I also add that I am an evil mother because I feel just a wee bit o'glee that he actually ended up spraying himself (that'll teach you, buddy!)?

After we had a very stern talk about playing with things that aren't toys (I did the majority of the "talking," as you can well imagine), he spent a lot of time in his room "thinking" about it.

The scary thing is, I'm sure this will not be the last time I have to discuss what is and what is not a plaything.

Sigh. I fear the teenage years . . .