Story time.

Today was a big day for ole Grif. He figured out how to inchworm his way across a room, finally. I was wondering if this day would ever come because until today, he could do nothing but lay on his belly like a beached whale. He could spin circles and if all the stars aligned properly, he could scoot himself backwards and wedge himself under the bed or the coffee table, but as far as moving in the direction of forward, he was going nowhere and fast. I was a little baffled by the whole situation because at this point in Clark's life, he was almost walking. Griffin just has a bigger belly and a huge head and clearly is taking his time on locomoting.

So tonight after supper, I took off his diaper and laid him on the floor naked so he could be free from the confines of the diaper and crawl around for a few minutes. I'm a firm believer in letting a baby wear his birthday suit for a little while everyday. I'm sure by now you know where this is going. I left the room for what could have been no more than 45 seconds, and when I returned, I found Griffin spinning circles in his own poop. His fists were clinched tight with poop oozing out the sides, and the cherry on top... it was coming out of his mouth a little. Gross? Yep.

I picked him up and took him to his room to clean up all the nonsense, and in the background Clark is yelling, "Mom! Can my step in it? Can my step in it please?" All the little toddler wanted to do was play in the poop on the floor. Entertainment is cheap around here.

At the end of the day, everybody and everything was cleaned up with zero evidence of the poop fiasco.

The very first thing Aaron said when he walked in the door from a very long day of work was, "I smell poop." I checked the bottom of my shoes to make sure I hadn't tracked it all over the house. I was in the clear. I just failed to properly freshen up my home after the nine month old did snow angels in his poop.

It seems to me like this kind of stuff always happens to me. I don't understand. What am I doing wrong?