Barbie in the Toilet

Let’s see, it’s one of those day!
Henry and Annabelle found a king-cake-baby this morning and made a little pond on their high chair trays for him to swim in.(For those of you who don’t know what a king-cake-baby is–there is a tradition on Mardi Gras here where everyone gets king cakes. Inside the cake is a tiny baby–smaller than your thumb. Whomever finds the baby gets to buy the king cake the following year, if they don’t find it by choking on it.)
Then Henry flooded the kitchen by washing the dishes and pouring the water outside the sink, all over the floor, and then playing in the water filter in the freezer.(He ahcieved this feat by dragging a chair over to the freezer and standing on it.)
Then we went to Whole Foods.
Everything went fine, except the several times my cart cart would quit rolling and I’d look down and Henry would be trying to climb out of it while it was moving!
I went to pay and Annabelle said, “Mom, Henry ran off.” This sent me dashing up and down the aisles yelling his name, only to find him on top of a metal cart they use to stock food with a big grin on his face.
We came home and I schlepped groceries (and the monkeys) up the two flights of steep stairs in the New Orleans humidity and tried to put everything away while keeping an eye on them. I went into the bathroom and what do I find swimming in the toilet? A Mardi Gras cup and Island Princess Barbie, courtesy of darling Henry.
“Mom!” I hear Annabelle yell, “He’s climbing the Mardi Gras ladder!” I dash into the sun room and lift Henry down from his perch. He’s thrilled to be doing something dangerous. He finally goes down for a nap, (relief for an hour!) and when he awakens, I go to change his diaper and he runs from me and climbs on the bed and peepees. This is right after the housekeeper has just changed my sheets! So now I’m doing laundry while Henry insists on washing the dishes and floods the kitchen, yet again.
Then, we’re sitting on the couch and I look down and he’s pouring out his sippy cup of milk all over the couch, making a big lake of milk. I run to get a towel and he bats my hand away so I can’t clean it up because he’s so fascinated with splashing in it.
FINALLY, we get in the tub, and I look over and, lo and behold, Barbie is back in the toilet.
Holy Guacamole!! I need a margarita! (At this point, I’m pretty sure Barbie needs one too!)