So, this is the story of last night.
Harper’s going to daycare 2x/week now. I work a lot, but the flexibility of what I do as a contractor with my own business has allowed me to keep her at home for most of the 2.5 years she’s been on planet earth. It’s pretty awesome even though it can be a crazy schedule to maintain.
I picked her up early to avoid the white death (predicted 6 inches of snow). When we got home, I wanted to let her dad know we’d made it, and she wanted to talk to him, so we gave him a call. During this call, she tells me to turn around, not look at her, leave her alone, and that it’s pretend time. I had no idea what the hell she was talking about until I turned around and saw her squatting. Clearly she was trying to poop and didn’t want me to know about it. She’s in that transition phase of going on the potty some, then not wanting to the rest of the time, and she’s asserting her independence more often.
So as the room starts to smell, I hang up the phone and tell Harper we need to change her butt. I then realize we’ve encountered the poopocalypse. It was almost everywhere, and when I attempted to take off her shirt, it just dragged it up her back, into her hair, into everywhere. Now this kind of stuff doesn’t really phase me, so I cleaned her up a bit, threw the clothes into the wash, and put her in the bathtub. She played long enough to get pruny, and I told her:
“I’m glad you feel better after the poopocalypse.”
Not missing a beat, she says, “No, I never poop on lips.”
Of course, this cracked me up, and as I laughed, she started cackling along with me.
After the bath, I was reminded quickly that even though the kid’s crapping event only happens in one room, it makes the entire house smell like Hazmat needs to pay a visit to the house. But eventually, it went away and we survived poopocalypse. Gosh, being a parent is so glamorous. 😉
I’m sure I’ll be back with more stories soon.