On Thursdays I post from the vault. This post is from May 2009.
Who doesn’t love a mystery story?
(People eating their lunch right now, that’s who. Blatant crap talk to follow. If you are squeamish, go look at this instead).
Yesterday when I went to retrieve India from her nap I noticed a strong odor eminating from her room. It was poop, to be sure, but the smell was just a bit more permeating than usual. I also noticed immediately that she was wearing a swim diaper under her dress instead of the old-school diaper she was wearing at the beginning of her nap. When I entered the room, she proudly informed me that she had changed her own diaper. “Mommy, look. I have my own fresh diaper”. Trouble.
At first glance, there were no signs of the old poopy diaper. There was, however, some evidence of what had happened, namely a large area of wiped-up poop in the middle of her bed. I must say, she had done a stellar job of cleaning it up. But there was not a diaper or a wipe to be found, and her bottom, hands, and the new diaper were curiously clean.
After much searching, I finally found the old diaper in a drawer under her bed. But what had she used to clean everything up? I had this sinking feeling that there was something else in the room. And the smell. Good Lord, the smell. There had to be something else.
I set about cleaning her bed and sternly lecturing India on the importance of having adult supervision in her diaper-changing adventures. I also brazenly suggested that she start doing this business in the toilet, like her favorite puppet suggests to her every morning while she watches “Elmo’s Potty Time”. She seemed unenthusiastic about this prospect. In fact, I think her exact words were NO WAY. And despite my warnings, she remained pretty proud of her new diaper-changing skill.
I did a thorough search of her room. I opened drawers, looked behind the bed, and still, no sign of any remaining poop. I finally gave up, but just had this feeling there was more to come.
And then.
In the middle of the night, I am feeding Karis, and go to change her diaper in the dark. I reach for a wipe, but there are none sticking out. I fumble with the box, and the contents spill out onto the floor as it opens.
Ah-ha.
About 20 soiled wipes have been placed back into the box.
Mystery solved.
