What father wouldn't want to be woken up by their wife screaming at their son, on Father's day, no less - at an hour when your eyes are trained to say.... "no, don't open yet?"
And what boy wouldn't want to play with the brown, squishy stuff that seems to be dragging his pants way down low? That stuff itches, ya know... if it sits too long...
And so we have the quandry... what to do with Mateo who has not only learned how to remove his diaper (thanks, Mary) but who has decided to upstage his sister by actually playing with the contents. Poop. Poop everywhere. I froze. Where do I begin with such a mess? Do I attempt to clean up the piles (yes, plural) that have seemed to be smeared and touched every surface of the crib and carpet, or do I attend to "the boy" who has it all over himself? Life presents us with such tough choices. That is when the scream occurred...
I seriously don't know what that boy had eaten the day/night before, but I don't know how much poop can come out at one time? I was finding "stuff" in places I didn't think even poop could reach! At least his sisters had some entertainment for the morning....
Happy Father's day (belated) Lou...
