I find him sitting Indian style in the middle of his bed and quickly motion for him to be quiet and come to me so as to not wake his sleeping brother. He comes to me and explains his problem... he's had an accident and is completely drenched, and I mean drenched! Disappointed, I send him to wait in the bathroom while I go find some clean underwear for him.
I recall that there were not clean underwear in his drawer when I gave him a bath earlier that evening, so I head for the laundry room and my basket of clean laundry that never managed to get folded. I rummage through the basket... surely there's a clean pair in here somewhere! Nothing. Recalling that there is another basket of clean, unfolded laundry in my own bedroom, I quickly go to rummage through it, making a mental note to fold the laundry ASAP. After digging through the entire contents of this basket, I again come up with nothing -Ugh!!! Knowing that my son probably is beginning to wonder if I forgot about him, I race back to the laundry room, quickly dig through the clean laundry again, just in case I missed them the first time, but my results were the same. I'm racking my brain trying to think of where I could find just one clean pair of underwear. What am I going to do? I know he won't go to sleep without underwear, so that's out of the question. Ah-ha! I got it!
In desperation, I quickly go for the basket of dirty, unwashed laundry and am thankful to find a pair of dry underwear right on top. Turning them right-side-out, I head for the bathroom to present my son with his dry, never mind not-so-clean, underwear.
To my surprise, I find that in the four minutes that had elapsed, he had stretched himself out on the floor and fallen asleep. After waking him and getting him dressed, he informs me of the fact that his bed is wet too. Then, suddenly wide awake, he races out of the bathroom, grabs a Dr. Seuss book off of the coffee table and plants himself on the couch. I sigh and head for that basket of clean laundry in my bedroom, knowing there is a clean sheet in there.
As I'm stripping his bed, which indeed was soaked, I hear a little voice from the other side of the room... "Mommy, what doing?" Working quickly, I ignore my 21-month old toddler and pray he falls back asleep soon.
After putting clean sheets on the bed, I take the wet blankets to the laundry room and throw a load of laundry in the washer, making sure to include several pairs of underwear, just in case my son has another accident before morning.
Now, back in the living room, I pry my son away from Dr. Suess, convince him that it's still nighttime and put him back in his clean bed. My toddler began to stir in his bed again and, fearing that I might wake him further, I quickly tip-toe out of the room.
Exhausted, I make my way back to my bed. I glance at the clock... it's 3:10. I need to sleep. I crawl I to bed and lay my head on my pillow... 1, 2, ... "Mommy!" Realizing it's my toddler, hold my breath and freeze, ignoring him once again. I wait... one minute, two...
It must have worked, as the next thing I knew it was 7:00 a.m. and my alarm was going off. It was time to get ready for church.
This is how I found him the next morning...