So we went for a good hour, I read my book, they swam. We came home and they were playing quietly so I thought it would be a good time to take a shower.
Not five minutes into my shower did I start to hear the screaming, the running, and the doors slamming. Of course I can't do anything about it because I'm covered in shampoo and obviously completely wet, mid-shower. I have to call Puck like 10 times before he comes to the bathroom door and I ask him to stop fighting with his brother and slamming the doors.
They are experts at ignoring me.
The shouting continues, the running feet pounding as they chase each other back and forth. I'm yelling in vain as I hurry to shave one leg. It's useless, they know I'm in the shower and that I can't stop them. I'm livid at this point so I say to myself, I will show them, they won't expect me to barge in and break up their fight before the conditioner is even rinsed from my hair.
I slide the shower door open and step out. Next thing I know I am laying face down and naked in a huge puddle of water on the cold tile floor. My foot is killing me as I somehow slammed in onto the metal track of the shower door. I don't even move, I begin to cry, really cry. It's funny now, but at the time I was really upset.
Puck comes running in apologizing and I just choke out to both of them, "Go to your rooms!" I look down at my foot and it's turning a lovely shade of purple. It's really swollen and painful today. My back hurts too. Uggg, I hate to whine.
When Puck came out of his room he was holding a note for me. It was the sweetest apology note I've ever received. I loved the typos and spellings that only a 6 year old can make. It was actually the best writing I've seen him do yet.
Well, off to ice my foot. I never knew being a mother to boys would be such an adventure.