My husband = wonderful.

Seriously, he is a wonderful father, a great husband, an extremely hard worker and the love of my life.

I even think he’s hot.  Still.  After 100 years of dating and 4 years of marriage, I STILL think my husband is a good-looking, hot individual.


I even know that my husband is intelligent.  The triple threat; Good looking, smart, great father, and a hard worker! 

(Is that 4 things?…does that make him a quad-thread?) 


Even triple threats sometimes have lapses in judgement.  I get it.  I too, sometimes bring a little less than my A game. 

It’s ok.  It happens, right?

Well, the following story happened.  And as I think my triple-threat is somewhat embarrassed by the events that I am about to unfold to you; I just can’t resist sharing. 

So here goes…

Friday night, the Friday night before my big test, I was confined to the office studying my brains out. 

My Triple-Threat, was in charge of the munchkin.  The potty-training munchkin, who is finishing up week 1 of strictly big-boy underwear.

As I am studying, I hear the TV on…re-runs of NCIS (my triple threat’s favorite).  I also hear my ipad blaring a sight-word spelling game, then Dora, then Talking Tom Cat, then Dora, then Wonderpets, then Dora. 

My munchkin switches between apps about every 3 minutes.  His attention span allows for concentration on one thing for approximately 3 minutes and then it is onto the next.

At about 9PM sharp, I hear my Triple Threat tell our munchkin that it is bath time and I hear the movement of removing himself from the couch begin.  I hear him get up from the couch and make his way to our munchkin’s bathroom, to presumably, start the bath water.

This is where it gets interesting.

The next spoken words I hear, are, “WILL!  Did you poop in your big boys?!”

We call Will’s big boy underwear, “big-boys.”  It’s just our thing.

Then I hear, “ohhhh, Will.  Come here.  Come here right now!”

Yes, folks.  I couldn’t make this up if I tried.

Apparently, my triple threat walked into our munchkins bathroom, to discover that he:

  1. had a Number Two accident 
  2. removed his soiled underwear
  3.  left the, aforementioned soiled underwear on the floor in his bathroom, and then
  4. continued out to the living room, naked, where my triple threat was relaxing and watching his favorite TV show, and played with MY ipad for approximately 20 minutes.

It wasn’t until bath-time, that this whole debacle was realized.

As I heard this unfold, I couldn’t help but to feel my face get red with anger.

I mean, is Abby and the NCIS gang all that interesting, that you don’t realize your only child has dropped a deuce in his pants, removed them, and then shown back up in the living room, dirty-bottomed, and sans underwear?!

I love you, honey!  But, REALLY?!