Well, Fans, this morning was less successful. Clara had finished up her breakfast and needed her diaper changed, so Julie left Joe to the remainder of his two bowls of Cheerios and took Clara to be changed. One needs some sort of rodeo clown to accomplish this task. Julie will sometimes leave a toy on the shelf near the changing table for this purpose, but just as often, she will hand Clara a wipe, a tube of diaper cream/petroleum jelly/antibiotic ointment, a bottle of saline drops, or whatever to keep Clara's attention off of flipping over and her hands away from her nether regions. Today, Julie handed Birdie the bottle of Tri-Vi-Sol--liquid vitamins recommended by pediatricans for breastfed babies (apparently, many mothers are vitamin D deficient, and they worry about rickets). Also, for the unexposed, we should relay that Tri-Vi-Sol is almost the same consistancy as syrup, and is a deep reddish brown color. It turns black on clothes and skin.
By now, Dear Readers, you have no doubt correctly picked up on the foreshadowing. (Indeed, we have left the fore in the dust and are in the shadow.) Somehow, the bottle of Tri-Vi-Sol opened. Tri-Vi-Sol cascaded down the left side of Clara's face, into her ear, her hair, down her neck, and on to her shirt, pooling on the changing table beneath her head and back. Naturally it is on her hands, which means it it also on the walls. The only mercy was that there were just enough wipes remaining in the container to clean up all of the mess so Julie didn't have to somehow get another package out of the closet while Clara was on the table--being fresh out of Tri-Vi-Sol bottle with which to distract.
Meanwhile, Our Hero, a potty rock star*, has made his own way into the bathroom. Julie hears the toilet flush and then, Our Hero is on the scene of the above disaster. He has pooped. Julie knows he has pooped, not because Our Hero has announced it, but because a small piece of poop remains between his little butt cheeks. Here, we pause to remind you that Julie has used all of the remaining wipes in the container, and Clara is still on the changing table in need of attention.
So it was that by the time Julie can address Joe and his poop, she finds him happily rolling about his bed. Now there is poop on his duvet cover. (The mercy here is that his entire bed does not have to be stripped.) Julie tells Joe to get down and shepherds him to the bathroom where we review what happens when we poop. Joe very, very confidently (and quite correctly) informs her that we wipe! Julie adds that we tell Mommy or Daddy so that we can ensure success on the wiping front. For added fun, once dressed, Joe balked at washing his hands. Julie vetoed sending that to the floor for debate and did it for him, on the inside trying very, very hard to focus on the silver linings in this whole sequence of events.
We pulled away from the curb at 7:28am. Thirteen minutes beyond goal time. All things considered, not so bad! Still, Julie is hoping for a smoother morning tomorrow.
*Still accident free!
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