Foul Friday

I am a fairly new blogger, and I get so inspired by some of the creativity in other women's blogs. Sometimes they do posts like "Wordless Wednesday" (pictures with no journaling) or "Works for Me Wednesday" (helpful parenting tips) or "Not Me Monday" (embarrassing moments). I have yet to do one of those posts, although I think they're great ideas. However, today I would like to introduce a Nichols family first...Foul Friday. It'll probably take the blogging world by storm. You saw it here first, folks. I'd like to think this will be our first and only Foul Friday, but experience around here leads me to believe there may be more to come in the future.

I should've known this would be a Foul Friday right away this morning. Much to my boys' great delight, they woke up to fresh roadkill in the street right in front of our house. Lest I paint my children as serial-killers-in-training, let me clarify here: they were not glad that the giant possum/jackrabbit/cat thing in the road was dead, just fascinated with...well, whatever it is that fascinates little boys and turns the rest of the population's stomachs. Upon being told in no uncertain terms that we would not be going out for a close-up inspection (ugh, the germs), my enterprising older son ran for his binoculars. The boys spent, oh, probably 30 minutes inspecting the carcass from the window as the theme from "The Beverly Hillbillies" ran on a continuous loop in my head. Foul. But entertaining. Honestly, probably less disgusting than some of the garbage they could be watching on TV.

**To my father-in-law: Dad, I strongly recommend you avert your eyes for this next part of the post. I don't know if you will recover, and I take no responsibility for what might befall your psyche if you read it.**

Part Deux of Foul Friday occurred a little while after dinner. Steve and I were sitting at the table talking while the children played around the house. Suddenly Steve heard a splash and raced toward the bathroom, only to find this:

Foul. Even more disturbing? Steve's question to me when he fished the sippy cup out of the toilet: "Should I rinse this off and give it back to her?" What goes on around here when I'm not home?

I told you not to read it, Dad.