No, I'm pretty sure I smell it . . .

An add-on to yesterday's blog entry . . .

I'd like to describe last evening for you. P was working, so it was just me and the kid (plus the dogs and everyone else who lives here). I have a food day at work today, so we made brownies together. At some point A decided that she'd like to have a go at the potty. She stripped down and sat on the potty for a little while, shredding toilet paper and just generally making a mockery of the whole process. Because I am a lunatic, I decided to put some Dora "big girl" panties on her in lieu of a diaper. I repeatedly reminded her that her bodily waste goes in her potty and not on Dora.

Then she decided that she'd like to play with some Play-Doh. This particular activity keeps her occupied longer than just about anything else, so I decided that it wasn't the worst idea I'd ever heard. I'd do some cleaning, and she'd grind Play-doh into the carpeting in her room. A win-win!

I recently learned, however, that my Boxer, Gideon, eats Play-Doh. Not wanting to separate A from her potty, I put it in her room and put a baby gate across the door to keep Giddy out. For a short while, it appeared that my plan was working like a charm. She has a CD player in her room so I even popped in a Christmas CD for her.

After a few minutes I checked on her. She was sculpting pizza with her Play-Doh. Then I noticed that she had drawn her legs up under her body and was sitting on her feet, which I found a bit odd. Something was wrong, oh so . . . wrong.

"Did you pee in your Dora underwear?"
"No."

And then I smelled it. Oh, no. Oh, yes. I lifted her up and saw half a dozen little turdlets on her blue plastic chair. The rest were still in her panties.

I mean, technically, she was correct. She had indeed NOT peed. But somehow this seemed so much worse.

I put her in a diaper and proceeded to clean up the mess. I scrubbed out her underwear as Harry Connick crooned "When My Heart Finds Christmas." I mean, holiday moments don't get any more special than that.

Right at that moment, Karl started carrying on at the back door. Karl is my big, black, fluffy dog. He loves wintertime and often stays outside for a little while. I opened the sliding glass door to find that he was tangled in some garden fencing and had dragged the entire fence to the door with him.

So yeah, that was my evening. I hope you can contain your envy.

Comments

Anonymous said…
OH...we've had the same issue with our May toddler. And why are poopy underpants so much more....ummm....gross than a poopy diaper?!? I'm starting to think my son's going to college with a diaper on his bottom and a bib around his neck.
December 15, 2007 at 5:36 PM
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