growing bigger everyday
still needs translation
The wee-er one just emerged from the little play tent she has in the living room. She was not wearing a diaper. She had been wearing one when she went INTO the tent, so this was my first cause for alarm.
Second cause for alarm?
"Pee!" she says gleefully, approaching me and gesturing to her tiny butt. "Pee!"
"Did you pee in the tent?" I ask, feeling dread rise up like last night’s heartburn.
"Pee!" she repeats and points to the tent.
With trepidation, I swing aside the tent flap and OH SHIT!
That’s right. There’s no pee. There’s a giant ball of toddler poo. Carefully placed on top of the outside of a diaper. Upon further inspection, though, there is poo everywhere. Apparently, she removed the poo from the diaper, tried to cram it into a plastic jar with a lid she was playing with, gave up on that endeavor, and replaced the poo on (rather than in) the diaper.
I think we’re going to have to throw away the tent. Is there enough Lysol for this? I mean, I have it pretty clean in there now, but still. It’s kind of like not wanting to live in the Manson mansion, you know? Watching her play at the scene of the crime, even if the scene is perfectly clean… not sure I can handle it.