Showing Off

Max has started showing off. Monday night saw Casa de Skim play host to our neighborhood high-stakes winner-take-all fight-to-the-death bunko matchup. It was also a day that bore witness to said house being professionally cleaned top to bottom for, I believe, the first time ever. We decided to try out this service because of a friend’s recommendation and the very real need to have it scrubbed ceiling to floorboard.

I showed up about 6 p.m. and she was still there. Apparently she has an assistant who helps out but was unavailable this time. The woman arrived there at 10 a.m. and was still freaking there at 6 p.m. and had STILL not mopped and cleaned the kitchen. I wasn’t apoplectic or anything, but it stunned me to think of how long it must have taken her to do each room. For the record, it’s not like we’re one McDonald’s bag away from starring on “Hoarders.” We keep things pretty straight and tidy but don’t run the Roomba as often as we should.

My calm exterior belied a raging undercurrent when I walked in. But all that evaporated as I inspected the rest of the house. In a word, it was perfect. The windows were spotless, the floor was dirtless, and we could eat off the bathroom counters. So she may have moved rather slowly, but her determination to clean the Hell out of each room was evident.

The trouble was, she hadn’t finished a critical room that would be filled with neighborhood ladies in approximately one hour. The scramble was on to feed Max and finish off the work after she left.

Let’s just say it was a mad dash down to the last second. Once the women started showing up, I took Max into his bedroom where we wrestled, played, and read a few books. Before his bath time, he ran out and greeted the women. He also climbed up on his horse to show how awesome a rider he was. He pointed out his kitchen and in general ran around acting like he was slightly off-kilter. It made us laugh when we realized he was showing off, so I let him do so longer than I should.

Of course, he wanted no part of his bath and threw a tantrum. I’m pouring water on him and washing him down and he’s crying his head off. Ahh, parenthood. Once I dried him off, I threw him into his monkey pajamas and took him out to see momma. He looked around at the women, My Fair Lady hugged and kissed him goodnight, and then we returned to his room to finish the nightly routine. At that point he was calm, and was excited about picking out his books. Fortunately, he went down easily after reading “Horton Hears A Who.” One of the ladies later remarked that her child has screamed bloody murder the entirety of their bunko match.

We got lucky that night, kids. Real lucky.