Yesterday, while I was at work, I called home to check on my boys to hear that Mr. Rochester had just finished cleaning up Trotwood in one of his fiascos. And this is what happened. It all started the other day when I was at the store. I bought a half gallon of chocolate milk, which Trotwood most tenderly refers to as "lo-kee" and brought it home and put it in the fridge. Over the course of a few days, the half gallon was reduced to about a quarter of it's original volume and it was frankly just "chillin" in the fridge (yes, I did intend the pun here - I couldn't resist). Now, Trotwood has gotten very good at opening the refridgerator. Usually, we can hear him when he does this and even if we're not in the kitchen we'll yell from another room for him to close the fridge doors.
Well, this very thing happened yesterday. Mr. Rochester was in the living room, he heard the fridge doors open, he yelled to Trotwood to shut the doors, and Mr. Rochester heard the doors shut. What usually happens after the doors shut is Trotwood will run back into the living room with a sheepish grin on his face because he knows he's not supposed to open the fridge doors. However, this time, Trotwood did not run back into the living room. After a few minutes, Mr. Rochester went in the kitchen to check on all of the silence Trotwood was making in the kitchen (never a good sign). What he discovered was Trotwood with chocolate milk smeared all in his hair and dripping from his face while he happily drank the remains of our half gallon of chocolate milk straight from the jug. Of course, Mr. Rochester cleaned Trotwood up and removed the offending milk jug. As he took the milk jug away, he noticed something clanging around in the small amount of milk that was left in the jug. Yes, Trotwood had added something to the already-made chocolate milk. What Mr. Rochester found in the bottom of the milk jug was an orange crayon Trotwood had recently been using to color. Perhaps, Trotwood thought it would add flavor to the chocolate milk or perhaps, he thought it would serve the purposes of a spoon and he could mix the milk. Either way, I'm not sure we'll ever solve the mystery of the orange crayon in the chocolate milk. I only wish we had a few photos to remember this fiasco, but at this point, words will have to suffice.