So the other morning, when I was ready to walk out the door with the girls to go to work, my sweet baby girl caught my attention. Her face was a little too red and her eyes a little too watery. I knew what that meant.
I wrangled her upstairs to quickly change her diaper. Anybody that has or had an 18 month old knows what an ordeal that can be. Especially about 15 minutes after the last diaper change.
So, I was trying to entertain her and distract her. She wasn’t having it. She got upset about my entertaining, which means it wasn’t so entertaining, and kicked or threw something on the floor.
I finished her up, got her dressed, picked her up and bent over to pick up said item off the floor. As I was bending, I heard a giant “rrriiippp” noise (no, not that kind of noise).
For a brief second, I thought I would ignore it.
Thank goodness I didn’t. I had the sense to walk into the girls bathroom.
I walked in, turned around and looked in the mirror.
And saw my stripy undies looking right back at me. With the length of one back pocket entirely ripped down, a full cheek’s width exposed. (Let me add here that it wasn’t because these jeans were too small; in fact, they were quite loose and warn thin. Apparently, really thin.)
That’s when I decided that I’ve never been more thankful for a poopy diaper.
Why? Guaranteed, I would have bent over at work approximately 1 hour later.
In front of 32 teenagers.
Who would have seen everything.
Including my blue stripy undies.
Thank you sweetheart for pooping that morning.