Every time Death? has dressed Addie in her special I Heart Daddy onesie or pajamas, which she has done a couple of different times now for a couple special occasions, she has managed to absolutely destroy them. Today mommy dressed her up in her I Heart Daddy onsie for my birthday and she looked as cute as could be and, as she does nearly every day, she melted my big, mushy heart.
We played a little bit, ran some errands and went out for a birthday lunch. Everything was going great until after lunch when I changed my first diaper of the day. As soon as I opened her diaper up, it was a poop fountain. Every time I got my hand close to her to clean her up, she flashed me a mischievous look and let loose another stream of poo. One after another, in rapid succession - it was horrible. It filled her old diaper, ruined her new diaper, splashed on the changing table pad, on my shirt, some made it onto the closet door and of course, it ended up all over her I Heart Daddy onsie. All the while, she stared right at me, right in my eyes, as if to say, this one's for you. Heart Daddy? Hmmph!
I know it's nothing personal, I shouldn't take it as anything other than bad luck, but the ratio of pooped on I Heart Daddy clothing to pooped on non-I Heart Daddy clothing is off the charts and it kind of breaks my jumping-to-conclusions heart. What can I say, I try to put two-and-two together even when it doesn't equal four.
But later while changing another diaper and with me taking every precaution to avoid another poo-shower, she healed my half broken heart and made everything right. A soiled onsie is no match for a big, wide, dimpled, albeit brief smile that gave me a glimpse into the future and what I have gotten myself into.
I know that she doesn't not Heart Daddy, in fact, she really does Heart Daddy a lot. And I - I am in a shitload of trouble.
We played a little bit, ran some errands and went out for a birthday lunch. Everything was going great until after lunch when I changed my first diaper of the day. As soon as I opened her diaper up, it was a poop fountain. Every time I got my hand close to her to clean her up, she flashed me a mischievous look and let loose another stream of poo. One after another, in rapid succession - it was horrible. It filled her old diaper, ruined her new diaper, splashed on the changing table pad, on my shirt, some made it onto the closet door and of course, it ended up all over her I Heart Daddy onsie. All the while, she stared right at me, right in my eyes, as if to say, this one's for you. Heart Daddy? Hmmph!
I know it's nothing personal, I shouldn't take it as anything other than bad luck, but the ratio of pooped on I Heart Daddy clothing to pooped on non-I Heart Daddy clothing is off the charts and it kind of breaks my jumping-to-conclusions heart. What can I say, I try to put two-and-two together even when it doesn't equal four.
But later while changing another diaper and with me taking every precaution to avoid another poo-shower, she healed my half broken heart and made everything right. A soiled onsie is no match for a big, wide, dimpled, albeit brief smile that gave me a glimpse into the future and what I have gotten myself into.
I know that she doesn't not Heart Daddy, in fact, she really does Heart Daddy a lot. And I - I am in a shitload of trouble.
3 comments:
At least she's consistent. And aren't you just the big ol' softie?
LOL her girlie traits are already shining thru!
I'll tell you, I had so MANY things I swore I'd never do and half of them were done away with after my girls were born. Poopy diapers? Never would have gone in the same ROOM as a poopy diaper before the twins were born. Then I was suddenly mopping up all sorts of bodily fluids and it didn't bug me.
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