We've been dealing with lots of poop at our house. A little figurative poop, and a whole lot of the real thing. My poor Reagan had a stomach bug a few weeks ago and just can't seem to get it together (we'll be heading to the doctor Monday if it's not better!)
Well, I've spent the last two weeks cleaning up poop in the bathtub (GROSS!), poop on the floor, poop all around the toilet, and, I can't believe I'm telling you this, even poop ON THE WALL (sorry if this is completely disgusting you). Some of you have been there and done this, and understand my pain! Others of you are in the thick of it with me, and ohhhhhhh, how I understand your pain too!
This morning, I knew I was in for it when I turned the corner on my stairwell and could smell the poop from down the hall (with the door shut, mind you). Sure enough, my poor baby had poop everywhere. I bathed her, changed her sheets, lathered her up with lotion, and got her dressed. As I was putting her top on, she put those grubby little hands around my face, pulled my ear close (she loves to tell secrets) and whispered, “You da best momma eeeeeeee-ber”. (Translation for all you folks not still speaking baby: “You're the best momma ever, thank you so much for cleaning up my poop, AGAIN!”)
Some days the poop is worth it.
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