Had a few friends over for a playdate today. Got up early, made the house look like no one actually lived here, and then dragged the kids to Starbucks for a vanilla latte (por moi) and pumpkin bread for my girls. We did a mad dash at the grocery store to pick up some refreshments, then made it home in time to greet our friends.
That's when I smelled it. Our playroom was exhibiting an odor (not like yesterday's poop disaster)--- an odor that smelled like rotten milk. Thinking my littlest one may have dribbled some milk on the carpet, I Febreezed the entire playroom--- to no avail. By now, the doorbell is ringing and I put my game face on and answered the door.
After everyone arrived, I let them know that I was aware of the funk, just hadn't been able to locate the source yet. Since I only make friends with the kind of people that occasionally have funk in their homes too- my compadres laughed, and joined the search. We solicited the help of 2 three year old girls, two almost-two year olds, a 16 month old boy that refuses to walk, and an eight month old cutie patootie that makes me want to steal him away and hide him in my pot belly stomach. Then, BINGO! The offensive, and forgotten, sippy cup of God-knows-how-old milk was located behind a wicker basket of toys. After their intensive search, the kids resumed their business of fighting over our crazy coupe toy car. All was well.