Some young, single, fashionable women may wonder why it is that mothers with young children tend to wear their hair in ponytails. Well, I'll tell you...
Once upon a time (exactly 48 hours ago) in a place very close to here (approximately 8 to 10 feet from where I now sit), I attempted to take a quick shower. Now I only had two young ones in the house and I let them play in the fenced-in backyard thinking that perhaps there would be less screams of bloody murder if they had more room in which to entertain themselves. Well, I was right on that account.
As I am enjoying the warm water washing away the tiredness and dirt and stickiness and, well, you get it, I get so far as to finish shampooing when Nathan knocks on the door. (No surprise there.) "What?", I ask. Nathan's voice comes through the door, "Noah got out the gate!" "WHAT?!", I repeat. "GET HIM! GET HIM!" Yes, I did sic my son on his brother. I hurriedly rinse off and grab a towel hoping to God that I don't have to run out front in this state or that the neighbors are gone or inside or something, anything other than outside to witness this spectacle that is unfolding.
I rush to the side door and, thankfully, am able to stop short. Noah is in my car. No, he's not allowed to play in my car but he's not in the street and the neighbors can't see us! I tell Nathan to shut the car door. Yes, I did. I had Noah shut inside the car because he doesn't know how to open the doors from the inside yet. Now with Noah under wraps, I commanded Nathan to stand by the door and keep an eye on his brother.
With my children once again contained, I could rush through getting dressed before promptly retrieving Noah from the car, yelling something about never leaving the backyard without permission until enough loud words had been spoken to satisfy my angst.
Then I took a dog leash and tied that gate shut.
P.S. My hair just had to go without conditioner until the next available shower. No hair was damaged during this story.