Let's Talk Toddler.

Toddlers are a creature all their own. At least mine is, anyway. With a distinct language unique to him (a blend of what sounds like Mandarin and Spanish mixed with a mouth full of marbles, we like to call it "Mand-ish") and a passion for everything dangerous and dirty, there is never a dull moment in the M house hold. 


Take for instance Sunday afternoon. For months now, we've taken to putting C down for his nap without pants on. I know what you're thinking "mistake number one," but I promise this is headed in a slightly different direction than you are imagining. Slightly.


I mean, if I was going down for a nap, I certainly wouldn't want to be wearing bulky cargo shorts, so it only made sense (at the time) to de-pants The Toddler before putting him to bed. And for months, it's worked out quite well for us, meaning there has never been any "Poop Picasso" antics going on behind closed doors. 


However, let's travel back to Sunday afternoon, shall we? The Toddler had just woken up from his nap and was brought downstairs for a delectable lunch of watermelon cubes and peanut butter and jelly. Pants-less, I could hear him running around the living room giving poor Sheepie a run for his money while I prepared lunch. 


And then it happened. 


As I lovingly stood cutting the crust away from The Toddler's sandwich, Sheepie came running into the kitchen with said Toddler's discarded diaper in his mouth and in that moment, I've never been more thankful for a tattletale Sheepie. 


I quickly abandoned the crust-cutting and hauled arse into the living room where there was no Toddler to be found.. just a handful of tiny little pee-streaks gracing my beautiful ikat area rug.  As I followed the pee-streaks (why couldn't he just leave behind bread crumbs like Hansel and Gretel) I was led to find The Toddler teetering atop one of the upholstered dining room chairs, holding his foot in his hand, exclaiming "uh-oh, mama. uh-oh." 


To what did adorn that size 9 toddler foot? Oh just s smear or two of Toddler poop.


The Toddler pooped on the floor. Stepped in it and proceeded to climb atop my beautiful, brand new upholstered dining room chair. 


For the love. 


I've never screamed louder for The Husband than in that moment as I hoisted the thirty-eight pound Poopsicle up and away into the kitchen where I promptly began rinsing him down in the sink. 


Just when you think you've skirted another inevitable "Toddler Milestone" somebody has to  go and strip naked, poop on the floor and step in it. 


Just another day in the life of The Toddler's Mama. Oh and in case you're ever headed to our house for a dinner party? I'll never, ever tell which chair fell victim to The Poop and Run.