Last Wednesday evening, Sam and I were sitting on the couch when Jem came wandering down the stairs around 10pm to inform us that Truett pooped and to ask Sam to come change him. Sam went upstairs saying that he could do it and then called down for me to come up a few second later. And I knew that Truett had gotten into his diaper again. Sure enough, there was poop on the floor and all over Tru's hands. After a luke-warm shower and a thorough scrubbing of his room, we were able to put him back in bed minus his pillow and stuffed crocodile and puppy which all needed to be cleaned. We then went back downstairs, congratulated ourselves on keeping our cool and watched a show that makes us laugh to take our minds off of things.
The next morning Sam walked in to find that Tru had taken his diaper off and ripped out the stuffing. (Truett later told me that he did it because he was angry at us for being upset with him last night. The child has a strange form of logic) Sam informed me that he couldn't deal with it (boiling point) so I dealt with it. And again, I kept my cool. Who knows? Maybe I'm maturing. Or maybe I'm just becoming numb to it all.
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