Because I can’t stop talking about poop, and because I am seemingly hell-bent on embarrassing my daughter on the Internet (and because the lovely Kristin inquired and I have been so remiss about reading her blog that I hope answering her burning question somehow makes up for it), I am writing to let you know the outcome of Oops-I-Crapped-My-Pants-Gate 2009. While I sat there fretting about getting a shower while my darling precious angel wallowed in poo, Sadie – true to form – jolted awake and began bitching up a storm. So she totally won that round, and her dear, long-suffering mama didn’t get a shower until THE CRACK OF 6PM.
Fortunately, the owner of these adorable toes is totally worth remaining filthy until the evening news goes off the air.
(Even when she kicks me in the boob.)
(And even when her flailing legs break free from my grip during diaper changes and she grinds her adorable heel into her adorable poop-filled diaper.)
(That situation is also known as “Daddy, come hold your precious angel while Mommy throws back a beer.”)
Entry filed under: Gobble-gobble.