Toddler Terrorists and Parental Terrorism

It is always nice to talk to other parents who are being parentally abused by their toddlers. Shay, up and ready to party at 3am the other morning had apparently been telepathically communicating with at least two other fellow terrorists according to my sources. He, up at 3am, and his two cohorts in crime up at 4am. This coordinated attack was cunningly carried out against PTPP (parents too pooped to party) forces, troops whom were caught woefully unprepared. The assault, which was delayed until the PTPP troops had entered a deep slumber, was carried out with sniper like skills. Communications were severed, two toilets had been backed up with diapers and I was succumbed again by the old Olive Oil trick Shaymus applied upon me previously. This time he layered the "Consorzio Garlic Infused EVOO" across the top step of the stairs leading from the sleeping quarters. I was groggy, weary and looking for a missing 3 year-old I could hear upstairs. Knowing his propensity for terrorizing me I should have been forewarned but my parental instincts were telling me to search for my little twerp. I smelled it but was too groggy to subvert the trap. As I reached the top step, breaching the upstairs command center my foot slid rearward with such force I inadvertantly kicked myself in the ass and I slid, bounced and rolled down the stairs onto the landing. Indignified,
humiliated, and just plain pissed off, I could only picture myself as Joe Pesci in Home Alone. With that thought running rampant through my gray matter I began nervously looking for swinging cans of paint when the odiferous putrified aroma of a "Schitt Grenade" assaulted my senses. My little terrorist had layered diapers all over the landing I had just "splatted" onto. Drat! I hate being outwitted, especially by a 3 year-old. I cleaned up this little mess created by a person I now refer to as the "Shay-Beast," then stepped into the shower to "detox" my epidermis. Easing into a hot shower for a quick cleansing so as to continue my search the beast launched phase-two of the
assault when he managed to turn off the hot water supply.
Yelping like chihuahua that had been stepped on I fell through
the shower curtain onto the bathroom floor. Lying face down
in the bathroom twenty years after I quit drinking, once again
humiliated, I rolled onto my side to hear Shaymus say "lubby-doo daddy" and then, to add insult to injury Melanie asked "what the hell are doing on the bathroom flloor"....aaaaaaaahhhhhhhh