It's not even eight o'clock, yet?

I've babysat my two grand-fabulous-children (ages 5 and 2) the past two days, just during the day, while Jamie had a church function and Cory had training. 

At approximately 7:15 this morning, the dog crapped on the floor. I saw him in the act and he wouldn't stop. I ran to the kitchen to get something to clean it up while hollering at Ava, "Where's Lucas? Keep him away from the hall!" She hollered back, "He's back here with me! He just spilled all my milk on the carpet in the sun room." 

I cleaned up the dog poop and ran to the sun room to clean up the milk the best I could so it wouldn't sour the rug and WOO WEEE (!!!), Lucas had a big stinky gift for grandma in his diaper.

All of this happened in about 10 minutes time. As I changed the stinky diaper, I looked at my watch and thought, "Good grief, it's not even 8 o'clock, yet."

I wasn't going to share this with anyone, because I didn't want Cory and Jamie to think I minded one single minute of watching the kids, but one of the first things Ava told Jamie when she walked through the door was, "Oakley pooped on the floor!"

Busted.