All's well that ends well

Theoretically. Somehow, in the 10 minutes of pandemonium that preceded our bedtime routine, all did not seem well.

As I hoisted the kiddos upstairs and indoors upon our return from feeding Devany, Jevy pitched an impressive fit - the beckoning of the 27 degree temperature and hovering darkness overpowered his (not-so-natural) inclination to comply with his mama's wishes/plans. As he descended into despair, his tears soon choked him up and I was rapidly subjected to a great deal of vomit. And more tears. After removing his freshly/massively soiled clothing, I whisked him into the bathroom with the intention of letting the shower do the rest.

As I entered the bathroom, a distinct splash of water accompanied my footfall and I looked down in horror to discover 1/2 of water covering the entire floor. Kelty looked at me radiantly, holding his cleaning cloth in one hand, while the other manned the water flow in the sink. I was speechless. I placed Jevy in the bathtub and started the shower. It was then that I noticed the toilet had a very small amount of pee in the bottom, and was otherwise entirely emptied. With the dawning realization that the bathroom was not just flooded, but potentially equally contaminated, my resolve to remain calm rapidly dissipated. The proud helper was removed to an alternate location and frantic cleaning - and crying, which helped curb the cursing - commenced. It is also theoretically possible that I have the most sanitary bathroom in the United States, given how frequently it has been immersed in all that is deplorable and consequently given a resolute sanitation.

As I finished dressing the newly cleaned Jevy, I looked up to discover that Kelty had rather thoroughly drenched the couch with his clothes which I had failed to notice were soaked upon removing him from the bathroom previously. Kelty was promptly rushed into the shower, along with the couch.

So, as they say: all's well that ends well.