Craptastic

*If you are easily offended, read no further...

We got home from Guam's Liberation Day parade (I was in the midst of writing that post, when everything that I am about to relay to you went down, so that post is forthcoming.  It is my goal to continue to put off anything having to do with Price's party until the last minute get that post up later this evening.) we were sweaty and tired after sitting in the sun for four hours watching the world's longest parade.  As soon as we got home, I changed Price's diaper, read him two books and put him down for his nap.  As I was going to lay him down, I thought I caught a whiff of poop, but rather than trust my well-honed sense of smell and check, I just ignored it and left him in bed.  Why, after 1 year, 50 weeks and 6 days of motherhood would I listen to my instinct?

He cried for a bit (not unusual at nap time), got quiet and then I heard him talking to himself (also not unusual).  I should, however, have been alarmed by the giggling, but I thought he was playing some game with his stuffed animals or something.  I was determined to make him stay in bed for at least an hour so I could check email, blog, read, do nothing productive get some things done around the house.  He never fell asleep, so at 4:00 I went into his room to get him out of bed.  Instead of being greeted by his smiling face, I was overcome by the strong smell of poo.  I knew I was in trouble.

I walked over to his bed and there he stood, smiling and stinking.  Covered in crap, from head to toe- especially his hands and legs.  Somehow, his shorts were still on.  After taking note of him, I saw his bed, and like every good mommy blogger went to get the camera.

Now, let me tell you, the kid hadn't pooped in two days. He ate about a pound of cheese on Sunday and Monday, so today at the parade, I let him eat as much dried mango as he wanted, seeing as how dried mango helps when you're a little stopped up.  So, he had a massive poop and proceeded to play with the biggest, poopiest, smelliest diaper he's had in while.

After I got him cleaned up, which involved scrubbing him with soap and water, and changed.  I could still smell poo.  And then I looked through the slats on his crib.

Yep, that's poop on the floor (well, not exactly the floor- more like a storage box that lives under his crib),

shit next to the sheep.

And the first words out of my mouth were, "Damn it Price."  And then the sweetest voice says back to me, "Damn it Price."  Oops, I forgot how much of a parrot he has turned into.  Yet, that didn't restrain me from saying, "Shit!," as I was kneeling on the floor, scrubbing poop off his bed and various surfaces.  I thought I said it quietly, but obviously not quiet enough since I hear, "shit, shit, shiiittttttt."  At that point, I start laughing but it turns into brief tears (I know, over really not that much, but did I mention how I tried I was from being at the longest parade ever?).  And then, as if he knows what he did was wrong and feels bad, he grabs my face and starts kissing me,  how can I be mad at the Poo Poo Picasso?   I guess I should invest in some duct tape to keep his hands out of his pants finger paint to let him get his creativity out elsewhere.

I still can't get the smell of poop out of my head.  Oh wait, maybe that's because, yes, I just noticed a little brown smear on my shirt.  Damn it Price!!