Attack of the No-Stain Bubbles, Part 2: Escape From the Bathroom

I forgot. To throw them. Away.

In the excitement of rescuing my children and my towels from the no-stain colored bubbles in the bathtub last week (see Who? Who Bought These Things?), I had shoved the half-full bottle of green bubbles high onto a shelf in the medicine cabinet.

Then I forgot about it.

Gbot did not.

In The Diary of a Reluctant Mother’s recent post, Deni Lyn asks, Is It Possible to Baby Proof My Judgement? The short answer, according to her and her commenters, was, No. And now it seems I’ve discovered that it’s impossible to baby proof my memory.

Last night, Husbot and I fell asleep to the calming white noise of the air filter. (Husbot’s allergic to spring.) I thought, as I drifted off, “I must turn that off. I will not be able to hear Gbot when he wakes up tomorrow morning.” Then I promptly fell asleep.

Eight hours later, the person (I can’t remember who) in my dream shouted “No! Noooo!” But his voice sounded just like Mbot’s. I opened my eyes. A long, high-pitched wail shot down the hall. I bolted upright and ran.

To find this:

The scene of the crime.

And this:

The criminal.

Mbot had tried valiantly to get the bottle away from Gbot. The clash of SuperMbot vs. The Green Gbot had awoken me.

Both bots went into the bathtub.

The sheets went into the wash. So Mbot’s pajamas, which, along with the sheets, bore the brunt of the struggle. So did Spruce Bear.

The bubbles went, finally, down the drain.

This isn’t Hollywood. Surely, they can’t come back to haunt me again. Right?