My sweet baby boy. Rock Shay. This little man has the ability to melt my heart on plenty of occasions. He is quick to hug and kiss his "mama", he cuddles with anything that is soft, he raises his fist and yells "FOOTBALL", he pretends to talk on the phone, and he waves at strangers constantly. He's a keeper, this one.
Today...the clock read 7:28am and I could hear his little voice in his bedroom. I walked the short distance from our room to his and opened the door. "Hi Buddy", I said as I looked at his attentive little man face. After the words were off my mouth, another one of my senses came alert and I realized something wasn't right. I said out loud to Rocky Man, "do you have poo poo buddy???"
Let's let that thought linger for a minute..."do you have poo poo buddy????"
And as I glanced into his bed, I gasped. A poop grenade had literally gone off in his cute miniature bed. Holy goodness...the smell, the devastation, the stuffed animals, the wall. I don't know who threw the grenade in there, but all that stuff certainly did not come out of my son did it???
I feel the need to apologize for the visual, but people...this was epic. And we both lived to tell about it.
After a bath and a detailed washing of everything in and around the crib we are back in business. In the business of being cute and sweet and awesome, but goodness I may be somewhat scared for life.
Enjoy the weekend :)