It might just come true.
Just a few days ago I was bemoaning my lack of blogging material and making excuses for myself as a blogger. Little did I know that some juicy blog fodder was headed my way. If you don't have children, but think you might some day, you will see this as a cautionary tale. If you do have children, then you will see this as just another day in paradise. This post is, generously, provided without pictures.
Last night Steven was cooking dinner, I was writing a blog post and Luke, having already been fed, was happily toddling around the kitchen. He likes to "help" us cook. It's adorable, really. Just as I was fully enjoying our perfect little domesticity, I was abruptly interrupted by a loud "What is that?"
"What?" I asked, caught off guard.
"Ugh, what IS that?" was Steven's reply.
"OK, really, what are you looking at?" I say as I walk into the kitchen.
"I don't know."
"Is that baby poop or cat vomit?"
"I don't know."
Friends, you've never really lived until you have seen something on your floor and actually not known whether it was expelled from you cat or your child.
After some brief - and disgusting - examination, it was decided that the mess in question was, in fact, baby poop. Which was remarkable because Luke was wearing both a diaper and overalls at the time.
We sprang into action: Steven stepping in and then cleaning up the poop while I stripped Luke of his clothes. It was at this point that I realized one side of his diaper had come unfastened and was now acting as a large, urine-scented ankle bracelet. We then reconvened at the bath tub where we all vigorously scrubbed the assorted poop-afflicted parts of our bodies.
I will never wish I had something interesting to say, ever again.