Having babies yields lots of happy, joy filled moments. This slice, however, does not address them.
Instead, I’m sharing the moment experienced this morning. The one where my almost one and a half year old is chatting to himself in the crib. I’m assuming he’s flipping the pages back and forth in his Little Blue Truck board book, as he often does.
During this time I’m getting ready for work by following my normal routine. At some point I suddenly realize it’s quiet. Oddly quiet.
I slowly creak open the door and see him standing, hands covered in a brown substance. He starts giggling at making eye contact with me. I investigate his immediate surroundings and discover brown substance smeared around various parts of the crib and crusted into his blankets. Then the smell hits me.
Clean up commenced with a bath, throwing all bedding in the wash, and a change of clothes (for me).
This all happened five minutes before I had to leave. He’s wearing shorts to bed now, whether he likes it or not. Lastly, my apologies for the lack of creativity behind the title. There just wasn’t a better word to muster up at the time.