I needed to clean the bathrooms. This was not some OCD expression on my part (ha!), but instead an actual health concern. There is "immune strengthening" and then there is a "public safety issue." My bathrooms were teetering or maybe even straight up wallowing in the second category. I mentally told my kids to suck it up and to entertain themselves. I needed to rally the troops (i.e. gather the cleaning supplies) and advance on the enemy.
My children surpassed my low expectations and played independently quite nicely while I worked, causing only mild havoc on the rest of the house. I, prematurely patted myself on the back as I attacked the shower. I had saved the worst (and the most involved) for last. It was while I was engaged in attacking mold and mildew, scantily clad in a plastic and tile box that Enna grabbed the liquid ant bait trap. I looked up only after hearing Finn's hysterics. "She has the ant medicine* and is spraying it all over!"
Indeed. Enna had managed to drip sugary borax solution all over our master bedroom, yoga mat, books, and her hair. I left the unfinished shower, to grab the ant-killer bedribbled girl. I rinsed her hands, ineffectually wetted her hair (we had to give her a bath later to get it all out), and shut her in her room while I wiped down the sticky trail left by her play. After the ten minute detour, I went back to cleaning the shower. By that time, however, I felt rather defeated. I was in no frame of mind to wage war against things so insidious as mold and mildew. I took out some soap scum and called it good.
And this is why the bathrooms get cleaned every lunar eclipse versus something more socially acceptable like every week.
*Mr. F. must have described the ant trap to Finn in those terms.