There was a day, not long ago, when a little boy was having more than a little trouble listening. So he was sent to his room by his father. His father went to check on him about 10 minutes later... perhaps the boy had fallen asleep? It was so very quiet up there.
The father opened the bedroom door and found the boy, with and entire jar of Vaseline smeared all over his body. Stifling his laughter, the father removed the Vaseline jar, backed from the room and went back downstairs, waiting for the mother's return (she had escaped the madhouse for but a few minutes).
On her return, the father greeted the mother. "You have got to see this" he said, explaining the situation. The mother went upstairs prepared for the worse, but found that the boy had removed most of the Vaseline by wiping himself off on an old towel. "Schwoo," she thought, "crisis averted."
The mother was about to start on the coming safety lecture when she detected a familiar scent. A very strong, familiar scent. Her inner alarm went off. "What is that smell?" she asked the boy. "I don't know," came the expected reply. The mother turned back down the hallway and immediately saw the problem. The Febreeze bottle, once full, was now empty.
The mother, blood pressure rising, turned back into the boy's room. "Did you spray Febreeze in this room?" she asked, her voice doing a poor job of hiding her anger. "Yes," came the reply.
The mother stepped into the room and her feet immediately felt the damp stickiness on her feet. The smell grew stronger.
She fled the scene, yelling behind her as she went. Something about "stay in your room" and "you know better" and "what were you thinking". The boy (of course) burst into tears. After 15 or so minutes to calm down and form a plan, the mother and father went up the stairs to clean the boy and the room.
Yes, Connor had a rough day that day. Actually, it's been a bit of a rough few weeks... Anyway, we stuck him in the shower and Michael scrubbed him to try to get the Vaseline off. I set to work on his room. His floor, walls, bed, toys, etc. were covered in a sticky gooey film of Vaseline and Febreeze. His toys got sorted and many were thrown away. I opened the window and vacuumed the mess out of that room, just running it over the damp spots to dry it out (nearly a week later and I can still smell his room from down the hall). He got clean sheets. He also got to stay in his room for the rest of the evening, coming downstairs to eat and then heading back to his room. All to soon he was actually put into bed... he had gone into the bathroom to "help" me clean up and squirted out about 2 cups of dish detergent into the tub, onto his soaking toys. Poor boy just didn't get the point. But he did get a good nights rest and the next day was much better.
So... are you wondering how it could be worse. Just check where Google brought me. Wow. It could be way worse.