The problem is, no one gave me that interview which is how this story came to be.
If the walls of my house could talk they would share some atrocious tales, specifically the walls of Milly’s room. Her walls may not so gently request she stop using her feces as a substitute for oil paint. Really and truly it has been one shit storm after another at this house. Last week at about 2:30 am I finally succumbed to Milly’s whining, angrily opened her door, immediately a gust of stink surrounded me. I found a baby who had taken the poop out of her diaper smeared it through her hair, rubbed it on her face. Did I forget to tell you this was not just poop, this was diarrhea. The mess covered her sheets and painted her white crib with textured brown. Mason had just returned home after being away for a couple of days, he bathed Milly right away while I handled the newly designed room and crib. Eventually my husband and I returned to bed I turned to him and said, “Welcome home honey.”The next shit storm happened today. We have all been sick, but on the bright side Milly’s diarrhea has subsided. I put this little angel down for a nap finally after about 20 minutes I go in the room and yes just as you suspected my little Van Gogh had been creating a masterpiece with her own feces. I plopped that stinky kid in the tub, used I don’t know how may Clorox wipes ridding the crib and the wall of her art. The sheets off, new sheets on… you know the drill, and I wish I didn’t have to know it so well.
A few days prior my little helper reached down took a turd out of her diaper and handed it to me. She is simply fascinated by this brown stuff she continues to create.
The moral of the story is if you like a little poop under your fingernails from time to time I would say, yes, you are the perfect candidate for parenthood.