This weekend was like any other typical weekend. Total chaos and destruction...
Somewhere on Saturday we braved the elements and hit the store for weekly supplies. Upon our return, Davey decided to help out with unloading the groceries. This basically means he would grab some random item, wander around with it until something else struck his fancy, then he would drop it where ever he happened to be before grabbing the next item.
This time it happened to be a can of Redi-Whip Whipped Cream.
I saw him running around with it and thought nothing of it. Figured since it was still sealed, he couldn't do much damage...
Somewhere during all this, the hubby headed downstairs to take a few things to the downstairs freezer. I was preoccupied with madame cranky-pants who was currently amusing herself by alternating squeals of delight with bouts of random swearing that only small babies can pull off. I was vaguely aware that Davey was no where to be seen.
Having settled Alivia, I started dinner preparations. In the midst of rattling pans, I seem to remember hearing a shriek, but it didn't quiet register. Then I heard a noise that I couldn't quiet put my finger on, so I headed to the top of the stairs.
"You alive down there?" I hollared.
My question was greeted with the strange noise. I now realized it was the hubby...only I couldn't tell if he was laughing or crying. After a moment he appeared at the bottom of the stairs, holding a stunned Davey.
"Why does he look funny and is everything all right?" I asked.
It took the hubby a moment to pull himself together enough to finally sputter out something which I finally translated into "whipped cream" and "everywhere".
"Huh?"
Between fits of snorting and giggling, it was finally revealed that apparently he had taken Davey and the whipped cream downstairs with him. Davey had dropped the whipped cream can...and it exploded.
Well, not only exploded, but did that wonderful thing that aresol cans do...meaning it started spinning rapidly spewing whipped cream everywhere...
Davey was, well...covered. He also looked very traumatized. It was clear that he couldn't decide whether or not he was in trouble and let's face it, if you were very small and a rabid whipped cream can went zinging by you, you might be a little traumatized too.
I couldn't help notice that the hubby was strangely clean...it was at this point he admitted that as soon as the can started spinning, he took off to the other room.
"You left him there?" I asked.
"It was every man for himself at that point." he responded.
"Well that was kind of sucky. What did he do?"
This prompted more giggling fits.
"Well - he kind of just froze...he never moved but his eyes kept getting bigger..."
Thankfully a bath took care of all the whipped cream, and Davey is back to ransacking grocery bags. Although I have caught him eyeing any whipped cream cans warily...
Somewhere on Saturday we braved the elements and hit the store for weekly supplies. Upon our return, Davey decided to help out with unloading the groceries. This basically means he would grab some random item, wander around with it until something else struck his fancy, then he would drop it where ever he happened to be before grabbing the next item.
This time it happened to be a can of Redi-Whip Whipped Cream.
I saw him running around with it and thought nothing of it. Figured since it was still sealed, he couldn't do much damage...
Somewhere during all this, the hubby headed downstairs to take a few things to the downstairs freezer. I was preoccupied with madame cranky-pants who was currently amusing herself by alternating squeals of delight with bouts of random swearing that only small babies can pull off. I was vaguely aware that Davey was no where to be seen.
Having settled Alivia, I started dinner preparations. In the midst of rattling pans, I seem to remember hearing a shriek, but it didn't quiet register. Then I heard a noise that I couldn't quiet put my finger on, so I headed to the top of the stairs.
"You alive down there?" I hollared.
My question was greeted with the strange noise. I now realized it was the hubby...only I couldn't tell if he was laughing or crying. After a moment he appeared at the bottom of the stairs, holding a stunned Davey.
"Why does he look funny and is everything all right?" I asked.
It took the hubby a moment to pull himself together enough to finally sputter out something which I finally translated into "whipped cream" and "everywhere".
"Huh?"
Between fits of snorting and giggling, it was finally revealed that apparently he had taken Davey and the whipped cream downstairs with him. Davey had dropped the whipped cream can...and it exploded.
Well, not only exploded, but did that wonderful thing that aresol cans do...meaning it started spinning rapidly spewing whipped cream everywhere...
Davey was, well...covered. He also looked very traumatized. It was clear that he couldn't decide whether or not he was in trouble and let's face it, if you were very small and a rabid whipped cream can went zinging by you, you might be a little traumatized too.
I couldn't help notice that the hubby was strangely clean...it was at this point he admitted that as soon as the can started spinning, he took off to the other room.
"You left him there?" I asked.
"It was every man for himself at that point." he responded.
"Well that was kind of sucky. What did he do?"
This prompted more giggling fits.
"Well - he kind of just froze...he never moved but his eyes kept getting bigger..."
Thankfully a bath took care of all the whipped cream, and Davey is back to ransacking grocery bags. Although I have caught him eyeing any whipped cream cans warily...
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