My Boudreaux's Boy

I googled two things today: First, “Ok to use ground beef left out all night?”  Some of you are cringing.  In my whirlwind of putting away groceries I left the ground beef out in the garage on top of the fridge. Darn.  Don’t worry, thew it away.  Apparently others had asked the same question, so I found just the answer I needed.

The second item that I googled was: “How to clean butt paste off walls.”  Yielded no useful results whatsoever. Apparently I am the first woman to ask this question.

Right after I wrote my last post, I close my laptop feeling comtemplative and peaceful.  I sit down on the couch to read my Bible when I hear Dutch playing with his little toy garage while he should be napping.  For a second I thought I’d just ignore it and let him be, then thought better of it. “I better be consistent,” I tell myself and crack open his door for quick chiding.  As open the door I notice it smells like Boudreaux’s butt paste. Hm.  I look closer and narrow my eyes trying to register what I see.  My son is white.  I mean, he’s always been caucasian, but my son is WHITE.  Covered in WHITE.  His face, his hair, his clothes.  COVERED. I look closer and my mouth drops open.  The WALLS are white, his quilt is white, his dresser is white. Closer look–books, toys, pillow, carpet–EVERYTHING is covered in oily, thick, creamy white butt paste.  My heart sinks as I look down and see the enormous was-full tub of diaper cream…empty.

Mind you, we live with Dombrows…in their brand new house…with brand new walls…which are now covered in diaper cream!

I was so horrified I didn’t even know how to respond. I turned around, closed the door, and stood like a buffoon.  Finally I dialed my mom and told her what happened. “What do I do?!”  There was nothing else to do but go back in, discipline him, then have him go downstairs and tell Joy what he did.  I carried him downstairs, not wanting him to touch anything, and told Joy.

To make a long story short, we experienced grace today.  Joy laughed.  Laughed, and assured me it was ok. Not only that, she came in and helped me clean. I washed DUtch’s hair five times and still couldn’t get the paste out.  Tomorrow I’m going to try dish soap (cuts grease, right?).  We wiped down the walls, dresser, gathered up all the linens and toys…and now that task awaits me as we speak.

Two little nuggets from the situation. One was the beauty of grace. Later, after spending our afternoon scrubbing the smelly oily mess, Joy got down on the floor and played trucks with Dutch. Later this evening Nathan (their son and Dutch’s hero), made a powerpoint slideshow talking about all the fun things about Dutch, even including a picture of him.  He gathered us all up, both families, to sit in the office and watch the special presentation about his little miniature friend. That is grace.  When he least deserved it, Joy and Nathan both chose to bless my little son…despite his naughty curiosity.

And a little merciful kiss from God.  Though everything was covered, including all of Dutch’s books, the only book without a speck of paste on it was the book we’d checked out from the library.  God somehow kept the libarary book without a spot.  Though truly a mess, thank you Jesus that at least I don’t have to buy that stupid book! Little mercies along the crazy journey of mommyhood. 🙂

If you’re curious, you can see pics here. I better sign off now…I have some cleaning to do…