Last night Jack decided that maybe he should send out year 2 with a bang. I have no idea what possessed him, but (or maybe I should say BUTT) he thought he'd take a stab at a little finger painting while he was in his crib.
To clarify, no, I didn't go leaving around spare paints for him to use. He was a little more creative with his medium choice.
Poop. THE BOY USED POOP.
Let me set the scene...
I was sitting in the living room, working on the computer. The boys had been in bed for a few hours at this point, and Jack had finally quieted down to sleep. While I sat there, I smelled something funny.
Was it the cat? No, she was all clear.
Was it me? I took a quick whiff of myself. (Hey, you have to check just to make sure.)
No, thankfully, I was all clear, too.
What is that smell? I walked down the hall to investigate.
When I got to Jack's room, the stench was overwhelming. I knew it was going to be bad.
He had stood up when I got close to his room. I turned on his light, and I could not believe what I found. There he was, naked and streaked with poop.
There was poop all over the floor.
There was poop all over his sheets.
There was poop between the SLATS of his CRIB. ALL OF THEM. He had rubbed it everywhere.
It was horrifying.
Took me over an hour to clean it all up. (shudder)
Sigh. This is one milestone I could have done without experiencing. I am once again reminded that nature makes kids cute so they live through childhood. :/
And if this is any indication of how three is going to be, I am so in trouble with this kid.