Two traumatic true stories

We have had a great weekend, but there were two brief episodes that were ummm...interesting....  Sorry I didn't get pictures of either event as they were both spontaneous and, well, rather traumatic in the moment.

Last night Baby Girl was last in the bath.  That fact is important because it means that the bar of soap had been water logged by both Super-T and Little Pud and was a soft squishy version of its former self.  For unknown reasons, Baby Girl decided to take a HUGE bite of soap.  This is the same Baby Girl who is completely tube-fed and refuses to let any food or beverage down her gullet, but non-edible things?  Yes!  Let's gnosh tissues and sand and now SOAP!  The crying didn't start right away.  In fact she didn't seem fazed until I, realizing she had a huge wad of soap stuck to the roof of her mouth, decided to get it out.  Girlfriend has mad tongue skills when it comes to getting something unwanted out of her mouth, but apparently the soap was just so soft and sticky that she couldn't move it and it had become attached to her palate.  Enter my finger (OUCH!) then a spoon, and finally a toothbrush.  It took several minutes and LOTS of crying and foaming at the mouth (literally) before Baby Girl was finally soap free.  The residual crying and sob-breathing lasted a long time.  I tried to sympathize, but I wasn't so successful and confess to laughing.  But don't worry, I was paid back, because the next traumatic experience was just for me.

This morning I loaded up three kiddos and headed to church.  The Philosopher has been at a living history event all weekend so he wasn't with us (if he had been, this story would most likely be quite different.)  When we were nearly to church I saw a big turtle right in the middle of the road.  The road was completely deserted, but I knew there would soon be lots of traffic with first service letting out and second service starting, so I stopped, flipped on the hazards, and told the kids, "I'll be right back."  I hopped out to rescue the nice turtle.  I love all animals and hated to think of someone running over this guy.  I picked him up and immediately was rewarded with cold "water" splashing all over my feet.  Yes, Mr. Turtle peed on me.  Shocked, but remembering my mission, I ran him to the grass by the side of the road and jumped back in the car where Little Pud needed confirmation that the gallons of "water" were in fact what she suspected.  Fortunately the minivan is well-stocked with wipes, Mr. Turtle mostly got my feet, and I was wearing easily-cleaned flip flops.  There was no time to go home.  Just time to laugh and have the kids laugh at me while I wiped off.  So, if you saw me at church this morning, I had turtle toes.  I cringe to think about it.  On the other hand, I see a homeschool science lesson:  cold-blooded animals have cold urine and apparently can hold more than the actual volume of their body.  Who knew?

How was your weekend?