Strange Days

It was a strange day.  Mostly good, but strange.  We dropped the babe off at school and the only one crying was the little guy.  I think he knew he was losing his play mate.  The babe was happy and confident and gave me a great big hug before we left.  She was thrilled to be back.

The little guy and I then went to the dermatologist to have a potentially funky mole I recently found checked out.  Turns out it was nothing to be concerned about.  Another good thing.

After nap time the little guy wandered around the house calling out his sister's name (not really, but his version of it).  He had forgotten she was at school and couldn't understand where she could be.  Poor kid.

But the story I think you'll really appreciate is the poop on my foot story.  At bedtime I brought the little guy upstairs and took off his diaper at the entrance to his room.  I assumed it was just pee in there.   It was not (you know what they say about making assumptions).  So I brought him over to the changing table and tried to avoid allowing any poo pellets from falling on the ground.  I was concerned I had gotten poop on the bottom of my black pants so I took them off.  I cleaned my son up and put him in the tub.  I then realized I felt something strange on the bottom of my foot.  I had a look and found a nice chunk of smushed poo on my left foot.  So there I was, standing in my underwear, with stinky poop on my foot, and a happy son in the tub.  Not the end of the world. 

I got my husband and daughter to watch the little guy while he played in the bath so I could retrace my steps and wipe up any poop smudges I could identify (there were a few).  I will never know if I missed any spots.  Luckily I hadn't walked beyond my son's bedroom and the bathroom.  Regardless, it was gross and totally my fault.  Lesson learned, I should always assume my son has poop in his diaper!