Poo Problems

Our dear friend Ali volunteered to babysit for the kids this last Friday so Matt and I could go out to eat and then attend a Royal Wedding Party at the home of British friends of ours. It was sublime. Matt and I haven't had a lot of nights out lately. Our last date was on Valentine's Day. We enjoyed good food at P.F. Chang's, duck and sea bass, and then we had a wonderful time in our friends' home making crowns (actually Matt made a hat that looked like the Archbishop of Cantebury's), drinking Pimm's, and watching the wedding.

Now Ali was at home, alone, with the children. Selah was asleep, and it was time to bed the boy. It began with a minor fiasco trying to remove a poopy pull up. (Ali now knows about the removable sides.) After that fit, Ali carted a crying Roman to bed. He began at once to jump up and down yelling for his poo. I had just informed Ali earlier in the week about Roman's new infaturation with seeing his poop and wanting to talk about it at every diaper change. (I can only hope it is a step towards potty training.) Ali dutifully went downstairs and fetched Roman his poopy pull up so they could discuss it.

This sent Roman over the edge. He was in full out fit mode at this point. Ali hoped that throwing it away with Roman would sooth the savage beast. They went downstairs as Roman continued to yell for poo, poo, poo. When they went into the kitchen he started yelling for Selah's high chair. Ali threw away the diaper, and then noticed, sitting on Selah's high chair, Roman's Pooh. As in Winnie the Pooh. As in his favorite stuffed animal that he sleeps with each night. I should have prepared her. She said she felt a little awkward realizing that the very tired 2 year old was yelling for his favorite lovey, and she brought him his poop filled pull up.

I assured her that he was asking for her fondly the next morning when he woke up. No lasting harm done! 

Daddy's Hat, Mama's Purse