I'll start with breakfast. Today's menu included oatmeal, fruit, and chocolate milk with a side of Melmo. For the oatmeal I chose to use one of my nice bowls that tend to break when thrown onto concrete floors, and this morning was no different. I watched the whole thing happen in slow motion and I know it was a complete accident so I couldn't get upset, but Clark was trying to scratch a wicked mosquito bite on his arm and swiped everything on his tray to the floor, shattering the bowl and sending fruit and oatmeal all over the room. Even the sippy cup of chocolate milk failed me when the lid fell off. So that was all awesome.
After breakfast, I put him down and noticed that his diaper was barely hanging off of his hips because I didn't change it right when he woke up and it probably weighed about eight pounds. I went ahead and took it off of him and went to get a diaper and guess what? We were completely out. We had zero diapers in our house. How did I let this happen? I was fairly certain I might have left one in his diaper bag in the car, so while I was looking in the car, I let him run around naked because it is his #1 favorite thing to do in all the world. Clark was roaming free in his birthday suit and I was tearing my car apart looking for diapers, and when I came back inside, I noticed Jake walk by and he was tracking something behind him.
I'll give you one guess as to what that was. Hold your breath.
I started looking and found a very naked Clark sitting in his closet covered in poop with the goofiest little smile I had ever seen. It was definitely his poop, not Jake's, because there was evidence of the crime on his little booty. Since I did not actually witness the act, I am assuming this is what happened: he pooped in my closet and then figured all the clothes in the closet, as well as my shoes, would look much better covered in the substance. So he managed to cover all of my clothes in poop and left Aaron's side of the closet completely untouched. I am convinced he did that as a statement that he's ready for his dad to be back. I get it, Clark. I'm ready too.
He must have grown weary of the closet activity, so he went back to the original pile of poop on the floor (carpet), got enough of it on his hands and feet to be able to produce footprints and handprints all over the rest of the house, and then he called Jake over to do the same. I followed the pooprints from my closet, through the bathroom, through my bedroom, through the kitchen and into Clark's room, all around his room, back through the kitchen and around the living room couches, back through the kitchen again and into his room a final time where he landed in his closet. I tracked Jake's pooprints through the kitchen and into the laundry room, and then up the stairs to the bonus room. Does anybody have any idea how much poop this actually is to clean up? It's a lot, in case you didn't know.
The first thing I did was prop Clark up on my bathroom sink and clean his hands and feet off and then started cleaning the entire house. Oddly, I was not upset in the least. In fact, I was smiling, even laughing, because he entire time I was walking around assessing the damages, Clark was following behind me saying "Peewwwwww" because that is what I say every time I change his diaper. The whole thing was pretty funny and it actually didn't take that long to clean up because I used a brilliant product called Solumel and it is magical. But it was not funny when I went to brush my teeth and found poop in the sink from where I sat Clark down to wash his hands and feet.
The insanity doesn't end there, but I'm not going to continue because I'm sure anybody who started this post stopped at the word "pooprint." And that is fine. I just figured one day Clark's future wife should know about this. It is 3:22, Clark is taking a nap, and is still wearing a swimmer diaper. Buying diapers is next on my to do list, right next to cleaning poop out of the grout on the bathroom floor.