"Mommy?"

My eyes flew open this morning to the sound of Little Miss whispering my name. In case you're wondering, in my experience, it's never a good thing to awaken to that word whispered in your face at oh-dark-thirty. Never.

"Mommy? Little Dude stinks. He pooped and he knows it because he's hiding it under his blanket and is laughing. And I can't get back to sleep because my room stinks. I don't think it's very funny at all."

Now, call me crazy, but I'm not all that keen about "pooped," "blanket" and "laughing" being used all in one sentence. Especially not at 6am before I've had a good stretch and enough time for my brain to awaken from its slumber. That's just wrong on so many levels.

I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the fact that Little Miss was standing at the side of my bed staring at me. Maybe I could wake up again later and it would have been a dream. "Mommy?" She was still there. "My bedroom stinks and I can't sleep." Once again, reality was shoved in my face. I couldn't ignore it. I heaved a big sigh, pushed back my covers and rubbed my eyes. We traded places and I shuffled off to assess the situation while she snuggled in to my nice, warm bed.

The first thing I noticed was the open bathroom door, the empty spindle of toilet paper and a toilet bowl full of paper. I decided to risk it and flush. Thankfully, it all went down without the need to plunge. The second thing I noticed was an open bedroom door and a missing Mighty Man. I hunted him down and sent him back to bed. Now all I had left was the next bedroom: the one with the door closed and light escaping around the edges. The one from which a distinct odor was wafting. I took a deep breath and then went in.

On many occasions, I've noted that Little Dude not only resembles Little Miss, but acts just like her. He's highly verbal and very easy to understand, just like she was. He potty trained himself, just like she did, and at the same age. There are many other similarities, but this morning, he took it one step farther...just like his sister. He painted with poop. Joy. Obviously I was mistaken in my belief that only our little angel of a girl would have the creative impetus to paint with poop. I stand corrected.

So this morning at 6am, I gingerly extracted Little Dude's bottomless self from his bed and put him in the bathtub. I then began to assess the damage. The large stuffed dog had nails painted on its paws. I hauled it off to the washer and started my first wash of the day. I returned with a container of disinfecting wipes and contemplated where I should begin. I stripped his bed, turned on the fan and opened the window. Then I scrubbed walls and determined that the carpet could wait. There were several little footprints, but not enough for me to feel the need to break out the steam cleaner at 6:15. I headed to the bathroom to discover Little Dude had continued his painting efforts. Thankfully, it was all contained in the tub.

One quick bath later, and I emerged to find that all 3 older kids were gathered on the couch for an early morning showing of Brother Bear. Well, why not. I'm not in the mood to fight the early rising or the tears I'm sure to experience today as a result of everyone being up so early. I did eventually get the carpet cleaned...right before I put the kids down to bed. We had such a full day today, that was my first chance to get it clean. It's been a long day.