The story of the turd-filled hallway

I have a story. It's about our hallway and how it became filled with Dictator turds. It's pure awesomeness.

The Dictator is 5 years old and amazing. He's sweet, funny and intelligent, and I adore him more than words can even begin to describe. Now, having pointed out his good qualities, I'd like to point out one of his negative ones.

He'd like to crawl back in my womb.

Like, now. At 5 years old.

But he can't, so instead he'll settle for begging me to do everything for him...from getting him a drink, to putting on his shoes, to wiping his ass.

So we've been working on it. I've tried gently explaining to him that his wife won't appreciate it when her mother-in-law comes over to wipe her husband's ass at 2:00 a.m. in the year 2029. I've tried gently explaining that mommy & daddy potty trained him for a reason. I've tried gently explaining that seriously kid, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, get off the freaking pot, you're going to wither away and die.

He's just not getting it.

I'm finally just opting for a compromise...you wipe, I'll check. There. We're done. And it was working. For a while.

Until...

The Dictator took a marathon dump and decided to get all 'Big Boy' on us and wipe his own little ass.

And wipe he did, friends...wipe he did.

I honestly don't even know how many butt wipes he used to clean himself. I figure his cheeks are only, what, 8 inches in diameter? That means the hole itself is teeny tiny too, but the little Prince was apparently feeling pristine that evening, and took extra precautions to cleanse himself.

Yeah.

By my calculations, he used approximately 12 wipes.

And then flushed them all down.

Well, not really. Somewhere along the line, they got stuck. And the water kept running.

And running.

And running.

Until an hour later, when I walked into the hallway and my foot sank in mushy, shit-particle filled carpet. Lots and lots and lots of mushy, shit-particle filled carpet.

*Sigh*

Awesomeness.

So, we filed a claim with the insurance company, which, in an ironic twist of fate, happens to be the same Big Insurance Company I work for. And a restoration company came out, ripped up our carpet and padding, and left us with removed chunks of drywall, missing baseboards and cold, hard concrete floors in the hallway and (appropriately enough) half of The Dictator's room.

This is what our house looks like:

Doesn't that look like a cozy, inviting place to hang out during this beloved Christmas season?

So, that's the story of my turd-filled hallway, which helped contribute to my already horrid Grinchy Christmas attitude.

As for The Dictator...well, I tried being mad at him. I really did. I was all, "Dictator middle name last name!" and then he looked at me like this

and I turned all mushy, sniffled, and walked away.

It's just a turd-filled carpet, after all.