In the Middle of the Tunnel

I keep thinking that eventually, as he ages, Henry will get easier. More publicly acceptable. Less...disastrous.

But, today, he outdid himself. Sam took him outside to play (new rule - he can't be outside without one of his brothers or me with him after the breaking and entering into the neighbor's house incident) while I helped Seth with his piano practice. Sam came running inside shouting, "Henry is outside without a diaper on!"

Imagining more laws broken, like indecent exposure, I asked Sam if he could bring him inside. Moments later, Sam prodded Henry into the family room where the piano is and, sure enough, Henry was without diaper but still fully clothed.

He had the all-too-familiar scent of my current least favorite thing, and I told Seth that I had to stop and take care him because poop takes precedence over piano. Every time.

"Where is your diaper, Henry?" I demanded.

"Garage," he replied.

"Show me."

We walked out to the garage and circled the van. Not there. With dread, I opened the doors of the van and searched inside. It was blessedly absent.

"Where is it?"

"Garage," he repeated.

Then, because we were near the open garage door, he pointed to another open garage door up the street. A garage door belonging to a neighbor who faithfully sits outside in her driveway while her boys play. Because I rarely do, I suspect I long ago lost her respect for my obvious parental negligence.

My heart said no, but my gut said yes and I told Sammy, "Run up the street and see if you can see a dirty diaper in your friend's garage."

Too embarrassed to remain outside, I ushered Henry upstairs and found an awful mess inside his shorts. I stripped him down, wiped him up and put him in the bathtub.

After a few minutes, Seth and Sam came running inside.

"You were right! It was in their garage!" Sam exclaims.

This is Henry. This is what I deal with every day. Outrageous behavior involving poop. If it's not poop, it's food. If it's not food, it's markers. If it's not markers, it's something else he shouldn't have. He unbuckles himself in the car while we're moving. He throws water out of the bathtub. He bites, he hits, he steals and runs away. He is simply...naughty. And I see no end in sight.

Normally, I take most of his antics in stride, and focus on his other many good qualities, but today I feel weary. I feel like we've been doing this for forever. I want to see a glimmer of light!

And I really, really, really want a fenced yard.