Intestinal distress has come to visit our house. I've written and re-written this post, trying to find the right tone, but I just couldn't bring myself to list Dinner Last Night after "joking" about cleaning up everyone's vomit and diarrhea.
I finally decided to forget about trying to be funny—even though I loved my line, poorly crafted as it was, about "shrieking, nudity, and the smearing of excrement from one end of the room to the other that heretofore hasn't been seen since poor souls were assigned to psych wards during the 1800s"—and will let this picture speak for itself.
Penitent and Pitiful
This is my kinda sorta potty-trained daughter. She's in a diaper, because she was having a horrible bout of diarrhea. She's in the corner, because . . . well, I told her to "go sit over there" while I cleaned up her . . . um, leakage . . . all over the carpet. I didn't yell at her, and I certainly didn't tell her to put her nose in the corner. I just needed her out of the way so she didn't step in . . . er, it . . . or bend down and touch . . . ack, it . . , as she is wont to stick her index finger into anything gross that she happens to come across.
She has a little friend whose mom uses the time-out method, so maybe my girl is giving herself a time-out in the corner? I'm not sure what she was thinking, but she broke my heart with her sweet little apology. She stood there so still and quiet, rubbing her fingers together in distress.
Being the good mom that I am, I rushed right over and gave her a hug to grab my camera and take this photo. You're welcome.
Dinner last night: sorry, I still can't bring myself to mention food in this post.