You joined me just in time. At this moment, I’m watching justice doled out in the form of an irate toddler in a tutu trying desperately to whack her brother with the fin of her mermaid doll, in the attempt to ward him off from chasing her with the sprinkler again.

Fascinating stuff, this parenting.

If she connects, I can’t say he didn’t have it coming.

The sprinkler is the newest accoutrement to the Kellerman arsenal of keeping cool during, what looks to be, a hot, I-think-I-just-saw-that-squirrel-keel-over-from-heat-stroke summer. Husband brought it home on Saturday, and by the end of Sunday, the children were addicted to running through it, declaring themselves to be, “Cold and ready to go inside,” and subsequently shedding their towels and going through again.

I drank beer and stayed entertained by watching the baby chew on pizza crust in his Pack N’ Play, where he assumed no one could see him in the corner. He was very secretive about the whole thing.

I didn’t actually run into a problem with the sprinkler until today.

For, even as I’d decided that all Kellermans were to report outside, I’d put it out of my mind that the spigot is located under the deck, where I’d gladly watched Husband crawl and turn the water on.

My words of encouragement hadn’t been far behind. “If there’s something waiting down there to bite your face off, I’m aware of a few people who’ll come to rescue you. Shout loud enough, so I know who to call.”

There are times in her life when a mother must do the unthinkable, and crawling under a spider-infested deck is one of them. Especially when you’re me.

“Children, stand back. I’m going in. If I don’t return, please find a mother who could do all the things I couldn’t, like brush her hair and get your names right the first time she yelled them.”

While plunging under boards, cobwebs, and flies who looked like they were up to no good, a few things gave me strength. Namely, I no longer owed any of my children favors ever again.

“But, Mom. You said you’d make five dozen cupcakes for quilter’s club.”

“Child, do you remember the time I crawled under the deck?”

or…

“But all the other mothers were at the graduation.”

“Child, how can you not remember the time I crawled under the deck?”

possibly…

“Usually, mothers of the groom wear something other than sweatpants.”

“Child. The deck.”

In fact, I may just have that engraved on my tombstone. “This is nothing compared to what it looked like under the deck.”

Husband laughed when I reported my brush with Nature, and admitted he was surprised I’d braved the unknown.

And after the lawn’s been thoroughly watered for the next two hours, he’s going to have a great time crawling under there to turn it off.

Until Next Time, Readers!

Paige Kellerman blogs about marriage, babies and gin at www.paigekellerman.com, and is the author of At Least My Belly Hides My Cankles: Mostly-True Tales of An Impending Miracle. You can reach her at .

She also hides out on and .