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Mere! Merde!
Last night, after her bath, Trixie and I went to her room while Jeremy went downstairs to get her diapers out of the dryer (futher evidence of our hippie-hood: cloth diapers!). I jokingly yelled to Jeremy that he better bring me a diaper because Trixie could "blow at any time!"
And, sure enough, not 30 seconds after those words left my mouth, I looked over to see my pride and joy squatting on her gorgeous flowered wool rug from The Company Store, squeezing out a wee turd. It was a perfect, albeit stinky, Tootsie Roll. I can remember thinking to myself, "Whew! A little nugget. I can just scoop that right up and flush it down the toilet and all will be well in the world."
And just as those words passed through my brain, she stood up and stepped in her own poo. And then started walking about, stamping crap all over the place.
And that, my friends, is why I spent my Thursday night scraping shit off a rug.
Motherhood. Can you even stand the glamour of it all?!
Nice - I never noticed that "mother" and "shit" were only one letter apart.
We'll assume this tells us something about the French.
One of the things I like about you is that you're the kind of hippie who would only live on a commune if wireless were available.
HA HA HA. . . i shouldn't laugh as mine is only months away from a possible living room squat, but it reminds me of a story my mom tells. I reached down the back side of my own diaper and then began fingerpainting on the walls.
Moral of story . . . it could be worse