So, Steve decided to clean our carpet yesterday. Bless him. Of course, since he's the one who decided to volunteer our house for the end-of-year staff party for all the teachers at his school, darn right he should be the one cleaning the carpet! (Yes, that's carpet, singular. The main floor is almost entirely hardwood and ceramic tile, except for the family room area. We decided to go with kid-friendly carpet until our brood all knows how to walk, and then we will be changing to hardwood. At the rate Jake is showing an interest in walking, I will be stuck with this carpet for approximately 10 more years.)
In any case, I did my duty, keeping the boys occupied outside with the water table, bringing them both in under my arms so that they couldn't make a break for the clean carpet, then bathing them, and dressing them in clean jammies before allowing them back into the family room.
I had a sneaking suspicion that he was allowing way too much water to drip into one area of the carpet, while he tried to solve the "look, when I do this with the hand tool, it sprays water, but then stops after a bit. Spray, then stop. Spray, then stop" problem. With each word "spray", he shoosted about a half litre of water into the fibres, and didn't slurp it all up. My worst fears are confirmed today. My carpet SMELLS! Which means my ROOM smells! What the heck, dearest Steve??? I would MUCH rather have the spit up and crayon stains back, then to have our home smell like old camping equipment that was packed away wet!!
I'm pretty sure this is not a Febreeze problem. I'm pretty sure this is a "wait until the kids are in bed tonight, and then Cari re-cleans the carpet" problem. Sheesh. Good thing he's cute, that's all I have to say. (Although I should note that the reconfiguration of furniture he came up with seems to be very baby-learning-how-to-walk friendly, so bonus points there.) But still!
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