The runner-up title to this post: "And I thought DIRT under his fingernails was gross...".
It's curious that these events would transpire while Rob is out of town. It's almost as if Robbie knows I am holding down the fort by myself...
This is the second morning in a row that I have gone into Robbie's room to get him up for the day, only to be greeted by the rank stench of poop immediately after opening the door. Fine, he usually wakes up with a poopy diaper. No big deal.
But this is ALSO the second morning IN A ROW that I have discovered that my son has put his hands down the back of his diaper and practiced finger painting with his poop on the crib sheet.
And tragically, this morning Hippy also got finger painted.
I'm sorry Hippy.
You did nothing to deserve this. I hope you enjoyed your first bath in the washing machine. You look good as new and smell even better than before. What a loyal friend you are, to still stick around.
In other news, Robbie will only be wearing one piece, footed pajama's to bed from here on out. He hasn't figured out zippers... yet.
*I almost documented this post with a few pictures, but decided against it. You're welcome.