Well, I’ve now gone from debbie downer to poop poster, and I’m not sure why anyone would still be reading, but if you stuck it out, there’s a prize at the end. Here is a really, really adorable video of Keanan’s friends singing happy birthday to him at the boy’s home. Precious. Truly.
Today was a hard day. Today, both Keanan and India turn three years old. Each of the last three birthdays has been hard, but this one was particularly difficult. On their first birthdays, I thought for sure that we would celebrate #2 together. Last year, I was certain he would be home by three. Today, I just don’t know what to think anymore. Last year I described this day as bittersweet. Today I am just feeling bitter.
I’m sure it didn’t help that we didn’t really have any birthday festivities for India to take my mind off of things. We are celebrating her birthday with a few friends on Saturday, and going to Disney on Friday, so today was really mellow. It was also low-key because I pretended that it wasn’t her birthday. Because my four-year-old likes to tattle more than Matt Damon in The Informant. And because I want to squeak in one last “free under three” day at Disney before we have to spring for India’s annual pass. So mum’s the word on the birthday front until we pass through the front gate at D-Land.
You know what is almost as bad as Keanan not being home? (Okay, nothing is almost that bad. I’m just using hyperbole here. And I’m about to talk about poop. Put down your lunch): India is three and still not potty-trained. Sure, she wears undies and attends preschool and fools the world, but every day around 2pm, she craps her pants. I catch it in time to put her in a diaper most days. Today, I did not. I’ve been trying to psyche her up all month by saying things about how, when she is three, she will deposit her poops into the toilet. I guess today she wanted to show me, in a rather explosive way, that she is not so keen on that idea. So. She really showed me.
And because misery loves company, I’m actually posting a photo of the mess. It is here. YOU SHOULD NOT CLICK ON THAT. It is a vile and disgusting photo of toddler poop. But when you do click on that, just so I get the maximum amount of sympathy, know that I snapped that photo after already cleaning about half of it up. Notice the feet, people. Notice the feet . . . and then think about what the hallway looked like when she walked out of her room. What you can’t see in this picture is that she is actually saying “cheese” and smiling proudly, like the whole thing is one big joke. One big joke that I am still cleaning out of her room. (This is the part where I decide not to make a joke about her $h!t-eating grin, because that would be in poor taste. And if there is one thing I want to avoid more than anything, it’s doing something in poor taste. Obviously).