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Saturday, 12 September 2009

Y chromosome = Y ME?!!!

Would you like to know what my darling son decided to do the other day? Keep in mind that he is barely eleven months old and already the trouble he gets into is nothing short of unbelievable!

First of all, my darling Ethan does not like to sleep (as you already know). I suppose he figures he is missing out on too many things if he shuts his eyes. So nap times can range anywhere from thirty minutes to a glorious hour and a half MAYBE twice a day. I try to be consistent EVERY day with when I put him down for his naps hoping beyond all hope that he will actually RESPOND to routine... eventually!

On this particular day, I put him in his crib and shut the door. He contentedly chatted away in baby talk for ten minutes, then thirty, then forty-five minutes... finally an hour and half had passed of hearing Ethan's little happy voice over the baby monitor and the little stinker had NOT napped yet, although he was quite content. At this point, it was time to nurse him again so I finally went into his room and, to my horror, discovered what had kept him so content...

Ethan managed to pull out both tabs (at opposite ends, I might add) of the side of his crib which dropped it down to a point where he could almost climb out. But it does not end there... He also managed to rip off his diaper which happened to be loaded with little poop ammo! Oh yes, with every "Oh no..." I would say, I would discover something else which was followed by an even deeper "Oooh noooo..."

It now felt like an Easter egg hunt as I found pieces of poop tucked in places I did NOT know he could reach: between the mattress and the bars, behind his stuffed animal's ears, between the mattress and bars at the opposite end of the crib, on the floor... The true puzzling thing is that he NEVER and I mean NEVER poops as much as he did with this new found freedom.

So there he is gleeful and wearing nothing but his little plaid shirt (which he peed on as I "soaked" in the whole initial moment of "oh no." I took him out, put a diaper on him and proceeded to remove all bedding while collecting his personal Easter egg hunt of poop. Put some new sheets on the crib, got him dressed and sat down in the chair to nurse him stunned by the capacity my son has for chaos without being able to speak a word nor even walk yet. And the thoughts begin to travel to the days, oh dear Heavenly Father, the dreaded days of him WALKING... no, RUNNING!

And as I am nursing him, my darling son reaches up to my face lovingly, places his fingers in my mouth (as he usually likes to do which is typically followed by him trying to rip my teeth out). Just as I am about to allow my heart to melt at this little moment, my taste buds kick in to remember that I did NOT wash his hands...

Those precious, poop-smelling (and tasting) hands...

Dear Father almighty... Y ME??!!


Cindy said...

Holy smokes! I bet you were glad when that job was done!

Anonymous said...

Too funny!!

Keep writing, Rita. I check your blog site daily in anticipation of a heartfelt, humorous and often profound account of motherhood.

In loving admiration,
Your Mom