You know those commercials where the biologist gingerly cleanses the feathers of a penguin after an ocean oil spill? The philanthropist gently massages the syrupy, black toxins out of the innocent animal's feathers as we contemplate how we can reduce our dependence on oil, thus decreasing the incidence of this man-made tragedy.
I'm not doing that exactly, but as I shove the Dream Lites penguin under the faucet in the bathroom sink and attempt to strategically wash away the urine soaked into the stuffing without shorting out the light circuit, this is the image that comes to mind. As SS stands beside me crying "My men-gan! My men-gan!" and I scrub the hand soap into the fabric and lather, rinse, repeat, I contemplate how I can convince SS to keep his diaper on during naptime to avoid such natural disasters. I contemplate how to convince SS to actually nap during naptime. I contemplate why anyone would create a stuffed animal with a tag that reads "Spot Clean Only. Do Not Machine Wash." I reflect on how I have changed both BB's and SS's sheets today, thanks to SS using both beds as his personal urinal. And I wistfully recall my plans to blog this afternoon.
What I'm Doing Instead of Blogging Today: philanthropic electronic stuffed animal resuscitation.
Breeley pooped in her panties today. Nuff said. Oh wait. No, there's more. She also peed in the indoor playground of a restaurant the other night. Yep, we were *those* people. Hang in there momma!
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