… That is NOT Chocolate…

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This past month we celebrated my son’s first birthday.  He’s an amazing little boy.  Of course, all parents say that about their kids and I’m not an exception.  I so enjoy watching him grow and the new things he learns every day.  He’s so very different than his big sister.  With my daughter I never worried about her picking up some random piece of lint and eating it.  She just didn’t do those things.  She never had to be told no more than once.  My son… he’s a totally different story.

When we found out we were having a son everyone warned us that it would be vastly different from raising a girl.  I knew it would be different, but I had no idea it’d be night and day.  Where my daughter would be content just hanging out with a book and a lovey, my son must be up to something… all the time.  I’ve caught him making a giant pile of toys… why?  Well to use as a stepping stool of course.  Yep.  Mr. X Mountain was not the most stable stool but it allowed him to climb onto the couch so he was happy.  Last night I watched him shove a poster tube into his toy airplane making it play the music so he could stand back a few feet and dance.  He is always, always up to something.

Sunday morning my husband and I decided to be ambitious.  It was time for Spring Cleaning.  Yes.  Spring Cleaning with two kids at home – we were very ambitious.  The morning went fairly well.  We managed to work our way through the kitchen and most of the stack of ‘paperwork to go through’ all before it was time for our son to nap.  Usually he goes down without much trouble.  When he’s tired, he’s tired and he’s more than happy to just go relax.  Not Sunday.  Nope, he sat in his crib for a few minutes before the crying started.  He cried and yelled and pretty much refused to go to sleep.

At this point, we admit defeat and my husband heads in to spring the monster loose only to discover he needs changed.  So he brings him to the changing station and starts the process.  I’m chattering away at my husband:

  • ‘Oh hey he pooped finally.  I was getting worried, he’s been having little rabbit poops for the last two days.  I’m glad he’s finally cleaned out his system.’

Yes… once you have kids discussions on poop and consistency are the norm.

Husband:

‘I think I prefer the rabbit poop over this…’as he’s working on getting the diaper off. ‘Wait, did he really overflow?!’

I take a look and it doesn’t seem like he overflowed, but it’s totally possible. Both of us continue to examine the bomb that has gone off when we discover his hands are covered in ‘something’.  I say ‘something’ because up to that point I really didn’t investigate.

  • Husband:
    ‘Oh my god!  He’s got it on his hands.  Grab the Clorox wipes!’

Ok ok… So imagine this six-foot something or other man, facial expression nothing but pure horror, holding the hands of our son in an attempt to keep the kiddo from touching anything.  I’m not even remotely kidding, I about cracked up.    Was it gross? Hell yes it was!  But it could have been worse… Much worse.

I managed to get his hands cleaned off enough that I could leave my husband to finish changing the diaper while I started the tub.  My husband brings him into the bathroom, carrying him like toxic waste and plunges him into the water.  Of course our son thinks it’s great, bath time early!  My husband is sitting on the floor, looks down at where his sock and shoe meet.

  • Husband:
    ‘How much do you wanna bet that is NOT chocolate…’

The poor guy.  I do believe our kids will be death of him.

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