It never ends...

Yesterday, by some useless miracle, I ended up being awake before the children. This would have been something to enjoy, except for the fact that it was the last day of school and Sebastian had a perfect attendance record to maintain, so he couldn't very well sleep the day away.

I head upstairs and open their door to Dorian saying, "Oh, no... I peed my pants." Coming from a child sitting in the middle of his bed, this of course meant stripping all the sheets and blankets and the addition of 2 more loads to my laundry day. Inwardly groaning, I tell him to hurry up and get downstairs and get out of his wet clothes.

[Cue Sebastian.]

"Mom, I don't understand why my pajamas are wet."

Good Christ, can this even be possible? Two wet beds on one day? When they both are consistently dry?

"Well, I guess you wet the bed, too."

"No, I didn't! I didn't pee! I didn't feel that happen!"

I turn from yanking bedclothes off of Dorian's bed to see Sebastian, sopping wet from nipples to mid-thigh.

"Sebastian, look where you are wet. You must have peed. It's not a big deal. [I mean, really, what's 2 more loads of laundry at this point?] Just go clean yourself up."

"But I swear it! I didn't pee."

And, thus, the first indignity of the day: kneeling down to a face full of ammonia smell, enough to singe the nose hairs. And so he was convinced, and so I donned my washerwoman attire.