What can happen, will happen
I got up early this morning, with hopes of an easier morning routine – time to spare – time to sit down – time to eat breakfast with the children. Apparently the universe wasn't listening to any of those hopes.
I had made the packed lunches an hour ahead of our normal schedule, and wandered past Miss 9 in the hallway en-route to my better half with a cup of tea. While wandering back down the stairs, I heard a crashing, splashing sound, and began to run.
Miss 9 was stood in the middle of the kitchen, with a 2 litre milk bottle on the floor at her feet. Surrounding her was a lake of milk, and spattered around the entire kitchen on every vertical surface (rather expertly) was a haze of milk droplets.
I still don't quite know how she did it. I swore – a lot. She burst into tears. I continued swearing.
Of course the mop that normally lives in the mop bucket hasn't been seen for weeks – otherwise the cleanup operation would have been straightforward. Thirty seconds later I arrived back in the kitchen with dirty towels, and threw them over the milk. They are in the washing machine now – thundering round on a hot wash.
If you have children, you probably know what spilled milk smells like. Our car stank of it for a year after our youngest performed the same feat in the car when she was four years old. That's why my hour of “easy morning” turned into a mad session of scrubbing the kitchen floor and cupboards on my hands and knees with a sponge, and a bucket full of floor cleaner.
So yeah... fun morning so far. In five minutes I leave for work, and the relative calm and order of the office. I'm almost looking forward to it.