Thanks to the faithful readers of www.shortfatdictator.com, we now have two spankin' new Blue Bears that are a perfect perfect shade of..............BLUE!
This means that Operation Replicate Blue Bear is officially a go. Expect a full report on our newcomers' integration into Snoodie's habitat in the coming weeks!
This week we move on to a story of a grotesque and biological nature. Now, I feel it is important to acknowledge that back at the start of the blog I promised that I would make some attempt to limit the number of entries that revolved around my baby's poop.
The problem with this, to be honest, is that when you have a child, the sheer number of poop-based incidents in one's life increases exponentially - making it a challenge to avoid the subject entirely. All I can promise is that I'll try to keep my description of the "incident" brief and to the point, and fear not(!) once you make it through the part with the poop, I make it all worthwhile by including a HELPFUL LESSON at the end!
Last Tuesday, Snoodie and I had spent a delightful morning at music class - getting our Kookaberra on, shaking our eggs, and generally engaging in musical merriment of all kinds. By the time we got home, Snoodie was completely wiped out, so we headed straight for nap time. Because it was a little warm in the house, I tossed him into his crib in just a t-shirt and diaper, sure in my knowledge that we were in for a rockin' afternoon nap.
I was incorrect.
For some reason, Snoodie started squawking after barely an hour of down time. Finding myself deeply engrossed in a Tivoed episode of "The Bachelor: On the Wings of Love" (TEAM ALLIE!), I opted to ignore the squawks, convinced that Snoodie would eventually fall back asleep.
I was incorrect.
Shortly before the last one-on-one date, I conceded that all hope was lost (both for Snoodie's nap and the dignity of the Bachelorettes) and I went to collect the Snood...
...only to discover that instead of falling back into the sweet release of sleep, Snoodie had opted instead to remove his t-shirt, take off his diaper, poop in his crib, and then fling said poop about the room in the manner of a caged orangutang.
So, instead of spending a relaxing afternoon with my feet up indulging in questionable reality television diversions, I spent that time doing laundry (including yet another trip through the machines for the intrepid Blue Bear #1), scrubbing the floor, and hosing down a poopy Snood.
*end of poop tale - beginning of helpful lesson*
THE LESSON OF TODAY'S STORY:
The fact your child has never removed his diaper before is NOT a reliable indicator of the fact that said child does not know how to remove said diaper.
CONSIDER YOURSELF WARNED.
