Crappy Day Yesterday. Really.

It was actually not all that bad, relatively speaking, but yesterday could have ended better.

Alex and Gabey had a bath, spurred on by an unfortunate losing of balance and crashing into the steps by Gabey. Baths make a great distraction from minor head injuries. (Very minor, for those concern - not even a bump, but more of a tiny abrasion.) So, bath time went down with all the usual hitches - eating the bath toys, slurping up too much water while talking under water, slipping and almost pitching head first out of the tub, throwing bath toys at an undeserving Mommy. All the usual naughtiness. Alex was first out, shortly followed by Gabey because he was attempting to make the bath tub into a jacuzzi and Mommy got nervous. Turns out she should have been more concerned about Number 1 child.

Number 1 had her evening diaper on (Mommy and Daddy have little faith that she'll be out of evening diapers any time soon, but maybe someday, they'll change their mind.) and was sauntering around the house while Mommy was drying, rash creaming, moisturizing, and wrestling her baby octopus into a sleeper suit. Then, Mommy heard Daddy helping Alex close the bathroom door for "some private". Not a good sign.

Generally, when Alex wants "some private" it means she's doing something horrific that she'd rather not let the parents see. Daddy, being mostly too tired or busy to pick up on not so subtle clues like this, had no idea what evil was about to occur. To be honest, Mommy couldn't imagine either.

Well, Alex had pooped. Not believing her body, or perhaps plain not caring, she pooped in her diaper instead of high-tailing it to the bathroom to save us some grief. Doesn't matter. What happened next, though, was of concern. She proceeded to try and clean herself up behind closed doors. Sometimes calling to Mommy despite herself, because deep down, she knew she needed help righting the wrong. Alas, Mommy was too late. I arrived in the bathroom to find Alex with a long streamer of poop-encrusted toilet paper swinging from her left hand, poop smeared on her chest, hands, legs and other regions. Pretty much everywhere, in fact. Including the toilet paper on the roll.

Miraculously, the rest of the bathroom was "clean". I mean, as clean as her dedicated bathroom will ever be. Despite her best efforts to SHAKE OFF THE POOP there was nothing anywhere worth sanitizing off. Nice!

So, the issue was Alex herself. Daddy was put firmly in charge of the haz-mat cleanup, and quickly, a crappy situation was put to rest.