Doink!

Today, Rick and I were just trying to get Ada lunch, a quick bath and get her dressed for the day. It all started with what was going to be a simple lunch...

I heated up left over lasagna and Rick sliced up an apple for the little munchkin. She gobbled it all up and ground most of it into her face, bib, and shirt in the process. The red sauce gave her the orange tint of an Oompa Loompa (see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory). As always, I took off the highchair tray and a hidden treasure of goodies was revealed. After breakfast, it was a teething biscuit and a pancake under her butt. This time, it was lasagna ground into her belly, pants, and the highchair. Nice.

Rick's bright idea was to take her and the whole chair into the bathroom for a bath. We got her out of the chair, stripped her down to her diaper and we not only had a mess in the living room under where her chair was, but we now had a mess in the bathroom too. But it gets worse. In typical Ada fashion, she's let go of a gargantuan, nasty poop. Upon removing her diaper, things were so bad that I placed her straight into the tub. The first rinse was to get the poo off of her and the tub. The second was to get everything else off of her. What a little stinker--but a cute one at that.

What do we do after the shower? Lotion and a diaper. For the first time ever, Ada didn't pee on us before we got her diaper on. We are going to have to celebrate later with a bottle of wine. (read: bottle not glass). This is almost as big as Obama getting elected president people. Here we are, Ada in a diaper, Rick and I trying to get her dressed and all is well, and dry. Then I put a t-shirt over her head and she takes off in the other direction before I can pull it down around her neck. She's crawling away from me, unable to see since the t-shirt is completely covering her face, and what does she do? She runs head first into the metal radiator cover of course. Doink! Rick grabs her up, takes the shirt off her head and she just looks at us like "What happened?" We are holding back an enormous belly laugh for fear that she will burst into "What have you done to me?" tears and wails... but they never come. So Rick and I practically fall over laughing at her misfortune. She's totally fine, but I've got a cramp under my rib from laughing so hard at my little poop monster of misfortune.

Moral of the story: There is no such thing as a "normal" day when you have a child. All days are, however, sure to include several laughs. Hope your belly can handle it.