Bathroom Duty

This morning my three year-olds were taking turns making a handprint with fingerpaint as part of their Mother's Day gift. My job was washing their hands afterward in the bathroom. I was standing there helping three niños wash up when one of Brammell's four year-olds barged in, stripped down and started in on the segunda cosa.  (The second thing is polite Sister speak for going #2.)

I couldn't get those poor kids out fast enough. The bathroom was stinking up and the kids were still soapy, wet and confused.  (Of course, I attribute the source of their confusion to our very rude intruder,  but it might have something to do with my screaming in a foreign tongue, and my desperate attempts at blocking the view.)

I'm still baffled.