I started by doing dishes. Success.
I moved on to straightening up the living room. Done.
Next was the laundry. I sorted the mountains into the correct color/temperature piles and put the first load in. On a roll.
I was so on the ball that I went down to swap the load as soon as it was done and...crap. A pull-up had sneaked its way into my washer and those beady things that soak up the pee in diapers were all over my nice clean laundry.
I started the washer up again, praying that would solve the problem, and decided I had been productive enough. I fed the kids lunch and we all took a nap.
Tonight, I saw my littlest monkey chewing on something. I hadn't given him anything to eat since dinner and the fridge was still locked (yes, I lock my fridge- a 2-year-old only needs so many Gogurts in a day) so I asked him what he had. He ran away and hid. That is never a good sign, especially with that precocious one. My middle monkey chased him down and brought him over to me. Of course, his mouth was empty by then.
Me: Monkey, what did you eat?
Monkey: It's all gone, mommy.
Me: What was it?
Monkey: It's in my stomach.
Me: But what was it?
Monkey: A crayon in my mouth.
It was time for the boys to get ready for bed, but the littlest monkey had disappeared. We found him hiding behind the coffee table with a fist full of Taco Bell hot sauce packets. What he had planned for them, I hope I never know.