Last night, I had just climbed into bed and was picking up my magazine, when the bedroom door was pushed open. I looked over to say goodnight to my husband when I realized it wasn’t my husband.
It was Mister Man.
With his pants around his ankles.
Shuffling into my room. And saying not a word to me.
He shuffled over to my dresser and started tugging on the handle to my sock drawer.
Uhhhh, Mister Man, whatcha doing?
I have to go potty, he whined.
You can’t imagine (ok, maybe you can) how quickly I hopped out of bed and steered him into the bathroom, opening the toilet for him just in time. And I do mean just in time.
He doesn’t remember it this morning, and now I’m a little paranoid about where else he may have ummm wandered in the night. I’m almost afraid to check though.