Text conversation I had with my husband this morning around 6:45 AM:
Of course, THIS is what I mean by Banner's "Stewy Routine". Except I don't suddenly scream, "What?!" and he doesn't call me Lois. I just stare at the baby monitor and try to figure out how much time I have until the diaper comes completely off.
(And, yes, I realize it is actually spelled S-T-E-W-I-E. In my defense, it wasn't even dawn yet.)
(And, no. I have no idea why Trevor responded with "R". At the time, I thought he was calling me a pirate, but later I remember that is spelled A-R-R-G-G-G. I can only assume he was being his usual unsupportive self or patting himself on the back for narrowly escaping the insanity by going to the gym at 5:30 AM.)
As it turns out, I had about 15 seconds after sending my last text before Banner's birthday suit made an appearance on the monitor. I'm very glad I made the decision to go in there and deal with it immediately, because - not two minutes after I slapped a clean diaper on that kiddo - he pooped. Thank goodness the new diaper had it covered, because I don't do "Oops, I pooped the crib" before 7 AM.
Just as I predicted, it took nearly three times as long to get dressed this morning as usual, because it is hard to wash your face and make sure your toddler isn't trying to unintentionally kill himself simultaneously. Especially since said toddler has decided he doesn't want what you made him for breakfast and insists on following you around the bedroom and picking up everything he knows he can't have.
So, out of desperation, I made the little guy something else to eat, which he initially seemed interested in. But, in reality, he was really just faking me out, because when I used the omgthekidissittingatthetableeatinghappily moment to run into the dog run for 60 seconds to pick up after the Awesome Pawsome - BANNER LOCKED THE DOOR. In case you are wondering, crawling back into my house via the doggie door before I've had a single cup of coffee, isn't necessarily my definition of a "good start to the day".
(Nor, for that matter, is learning that your son is suddenly tall enough to lock and unlock doors. Lord, help us.)
But it was all good, because - just when I thought I could take no more insanity this morning - Banner ran up and gave me the tightest hug ever with this big ole, silly-happy grin on his face.
Sigh...that kid. He kills me. Every single day.
2 comments:
Guess you should be grateful that you have a doggie door that is also Dealey sized. That Plan B wouldn't work at my house. . .
I also had a Plan C: through the garage. But that would have meant running around the perimeter of the house like a mad woman.
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