Sashimi has never been a great sleeper. Night wakings, night terrors, you name it. He's had it.
For the first two months of school, Sashimi sleepwalked every night, usually within 90 minutes of going to bed. He would mutter about school, call out to his friends, sometimes throw a tantrum, but it was all in his sleep, and he never remembered it the next morning. Once his slumber shenanigans were done, he would often just end up walking back into his bedroom and putting himself back to sleep.
For the past few weeks, he has not been sleepwalking. I figure he must have gotten this whole GRADE ONE thing figured out and realized that he doesn't have to be the superhero, rescuing all children from the evils of RULE BREAKING (gasp!) and TATTLING. Or, worse of all, the YOU'RE NOT MY FRIEND ANYMORE! Our little mediator was always trying to defend people and get his little glasses caught in the middle of other people's problems, and would take this to his sleep and then fight the evildoers in our livingroom. But not the past few weeks. The first grade must have signed a peace treaty, or a cease-fire of some type. No worries at home, no friends being subjected to the tortures of illwanted desk partners or misappopriated pencils. No sleepwalking.
Enter Santa Claus Parade. Sashimi had a friend join him. They were hyper as speedheads, running all over the blocked-off streets, climbing up poor Charlie Brown trees, and generally being terrible shits. Funny, cuz if Santa really paid attention at the parade, most of those kids would be getting big lumps of coal in their stocking. But Santa was in a big rush this year. Hardly even a wave. Pfft. Snobby Santa. Anyway, add all the candy that kids get at a parade from otherwise sane adults, and VOILÀ! WE HAVE A SLEEPWALKER! SASHIMI PENGIUN-MASTER, COME ON DOWN!!!
He walks into the kitchen. He opens the pantry door. He pauses for a minute, then closes the door. He walks toward the fridge. I assume he's hungry. He opens the dishwasher. Then I hear the sound of liquid hitting plastic. HOLY. MOTHER. OF. SUCROSE. My kid is PISSING in my dishwasher. And pissing. And still pissing. And peeing. And peeing. And pissing. And finally stopping. No, wait. He starts up again. Still peeing! Dribble. Dribble. Stop. He turns around, heads out of the kitchen, puts himself back to bed.
Tony picks himself up off the floor from trying to control his laughter. He looks into the dishwasher. Frickin kid filled the entire lid with pee. So. Close the lid, WHOOOSH. Pee in the dishwasher, not on the floor. Immediately run a rinse cycle, cuz EW. I know if you have no antiseptic you can use urine on a cut, but I'm not really liking the idea of sterilizing my dishes with pee.
But I can rest assured knowing that my dishwasher lid is sparkly clean. And that my son will probably disown me when he figures out that I told everyone on the internet that he peed in our dishwasher. But I figure that's a few years off...