Just one of those days...
Being a parent is kind of like being a high school janitor. One day, not much happens and the job is kind of fun; the next day, you’re cleaning a spray-painted “you suck” off of your car, and every toilet is overflowing into the halls, spilling a mix of sewage and stink water all over the place…I've seen it a million times — but never been behind it...in case you're a member of my hometown's police dept. and you're curious.
At any rate, I’ll bet you can guess which of these two types of days we had today, hmmm? Oh sure, most of the day was just fine, but when Connor woke up from his nap, things got out of hand, in a very bad way.
After putting him down at 1:30, I figured he’d sleep for about three hours, since we’d burned up a lot of energy roaming the aisles of Wal-Mart (yes, again — leave me alone). But, at just before 3:30, I heard him start to stir. Within minutes, after a bit of rustling around, he was calling for me to come get him. Oh well. Two hours is plenty long enough. When I went in his room, I was greeted with the expected smell of a dirty diaper, except that I quickly noticed that his diaper was on the floor and it was not dirty. (Thus, the explanation for the rustling sounds.) “Okay, if I smell poop, and there is none in his diaper, where is it?" (insert one of those "moments-where-time-seems-to-slow-down" pauses) "Uh-oh.”
Not good.
Resting disgustingly in the crib was a fist-sized deposit of poop (his stomach isn’t even that big!!), and Connor was cowering in the corner, hemmed in by the mess, desperately clutching his favorite stuffed toy, Barkley, and looking panicked.
Long story short, we (I) cleaned up the mess, hosed his butt off in the tub and started an emergency load of laundry. What was I saying the other day about being “energized” by all this stuff?
At any rate, I’ll bet you can guess which of these two types of days we had today, hmmm? Oh sure, most of the day was just fine, but when Connor woke up from his nap, things got out of hand, in a very bad way.
After putting him down at 1:30, I figured he’d sleep for about three hours, since we’d burned up a lot of energy roaming the aisles of Wal-Mart (yes, again — leave me alone). But, at just before 3:30, I heard him start to stir. Within minutes, after a bit of rustling around, he was calling for me to come get him. Oh well. Two hours is plenty long enough. When I went in his room, I was greeted with the expected smell of a dirty diaper, except that I quickly noticed that his diaper was on the floor and it was not dirty. (Thus, the explanation for the rustling sounds.) “Okay, if I smell poop, and there is none in his diaper, where is it?" (insert one of those "moments-where-time-seems-to-slow-down" pauses) "Uh-oh.”
Not good.
Resting disgustingly in the crib was a fist-sized deposit of poop (his stomach isn’t even that big!!), and Connor was cowering in the corner, hemmed in by the mess, desperately clutching his favorite stuffed toy, Barkley, and looking panicked.
Long story short, we (I) cleaned up the mess, hosed his butt off in the tub and started an emergency load of laundry. What was I saying the other day about being “energized” by all this stuff?
posted by Carter at 7:27 PM
2 Comments:
That is hilarious. I suspect you may not be long from experiencing our new great joy: being told by your young one that they are poopy, only to find that they have taken off the offending poopy garment and have left it for you in a most convenient place...like on the couch. Good luck with all that, Uncle Carter.
The good news is Connor has not adopted the canine festivities regarding one's own waste.
Carter may I say, YOUR ARE DA MAN!
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