It’s DAMN NEAR GAME DAY!!!
And we’re not on television; Carrie can’t watchie! 🙁
Poop. Speaking of poop . . . (you know there’s gonna be more of these stories now that Lydia is about)
Steven got home with Lydia yesterday afternoon. He’s Daycare Daddy right now. We were about to turn right back around and go out to eat but figured we’d better check her diaper first.
Collectively, that was the smartest thing we’ve done in our lives. She was swimming in poo, and it wasn’t all that great-smelling — kinda surprising considering she’s still nursing.
“I knew I’d been smelling something in the car!” Steven exclaimed.
So we changed her up; Steven helped in between huffs of the Butt Paste. (“They should make candles that smell like this.”) When we got in the car to go to dinner he swore he could still smell a lingering aroma but I assured him I didn’t smell a thing. It was only his mind being brought back to the horror of the scene.
After dinner we were heading back home. I had been having el ranko fartos since, it seems, time began, and I felt another one building up. Steven was telling me about a programming website he found. I waited. He was very pleased with this website. I waited.
Then it came. An SBD, a Global Killer. It was to be a silent strike. Steven was still talking. Lydia was asleep in the back seat. I waited.
Suddenly, Steven stopped talking in mid-sentence and exclaimed, “I STILL smell it!” He glanced back toward Lydia.
Poor girl, getting blamed for her mother’s rankness! I started giggling and fessed up. She shouldn’t carry such a burden yet. I’ll wait ’till she’s older before I blame her for my flatulent self.