|No Poop Was Used In The Making Of This Painting|
SO, how do I put this delicately for all of you young and maybe not so young readers out there? I’m just going to be frank. If you let the baby run around naked you’re just asking for poop. Lots of poop. Possibly lots of poopesqu Picasso or Pollock style wall art too.
It all started with a minor rash and it seemed wise to let her derriere get a little fresh air. The diaper was stripped off and my daughter was set free in more ways than one if you catch my drift. I went back to my blog writing and Jim continued to work on a photo collage he had been trying to complete.
A few minutes later I hear my daughter tell her Da-Da, “Pee. Pee.” So, naturally Jim asks her if she has had an accident and then walks over to her little kitchen area to investigate. He doesn’t see anything (there is still some question and debate about how much he actually looked, mostly because he has questionable skills in that department, but still, no judgement). He seemed satisfied that nothing was amiss and went back to working on his project. A minute later my daughter whacks me on the leg and then tells me, “Ewwww. Ewwww.” I repeat what she has said back to her like a parrot with half a brain and then say, “Show me.” So, off we go, her hand in mine, and she takes me to her little pink kitchen set and then points behind it. “Ewwwww,” she says again. Then she says the one word that makes both her parents wake up and take notice. She says, “Poop.” “Poop?” I ask, again parroting like a deer caught in the headlights. “Poop,” she says with a triumphant smile. I unenthusiastically peek behind the little kitchen and there it is. A pile of poop. Then like a detective in a really bad, mystery thriller, crime movie I notice all of the tiny yet significant details that obviously trace back to the scene of the crime. She is naked. She has poop trailing down her leg. She has poop on her feet and has left little poop tracks on the floor leading away from the pile and then again back to it. She is pointing at the poop and clearly knows where it came from. It was a poop-a-thon and I didn’t need any CSI Miami expert to figure this one out.
|The Scene Of The Crime|
I quickly turned to glare at my husband who innocently blinked back at me and shrugged. He didn’t see it or so he claims. The “you saw it first and therefor must clean it up” rule could not be applied to him because I had, in fact, seen the poop first. It didn’t matter in the long run though because he got stuck cleaning it up while I chased the naked little girl all around the house and then hosed her down. It turned out to be a two man job and there was enough poop to go around. The good thing is her rash cleared up and there is at least one tiny piece of floor that is now very, very clean. Also, I think it might be time to start potty training.