One tiny jar of applesauce can make an enormous mess.
It's bathed half the living room, the ceiling, a toddler, and a dog. The cat, miraculously, escaped. Jer and Sara were lucky enough to be on the far side of the room.
One awkward water-conserving shower later is when I realize no one's kept up with the laundry.
Bun has no clean clothes. Zero. Zilch. She's now running around naked with a diapered bottom, Ron's missing, and I'm out of underwear.
"Where's Ron?"
"Outside," Jer says, fiddling with the TV remote. Now that we're hooked up to electricity, the RV has full wi-fi access via something-or-another and they're browsing the TV, arguing on the merits of turtles with access to samurai swords versus kids bitten by radioactive spiders and acquiring superhuman prowess.
"Why is he outside?" I ask sharply, even though it feels a little weird to be upset with a kid barely younger than me. How am I supposed to discipline him? Bend him over my knee and spank him? Yeah, right.
