I was feeling a little down after my folks went home this weekend. We aren’t that far away, but far enough that there are no weekday meetings for coffee and every visit has to be a weekend trip. I am glad that my parents get to have overnight visits because they get maximum time with Dash, but it is tough to see them go.
As I was moping about the house feeling low, God sent the poo. Pungent, runny, breastfed baby poo all the way down to Dash’s toes. Zach was carrying him up the stairs saying, “Is this drool all the way down here?” when I saw the mess soaking through his sleeper. Normally a blowout is not something that cheers you up, but just then it was exactly what I needed. It was a two parent clean-up job and we laughed as Zach gripped Dash’s slippery leg and I handed him wipe after wipe. After cleaning slimy poo off of all three of us we hugged and I realized that times are tough, but if you are willing to accept that the help might be in the form of a blowout, God sends you exactly what you need to get through the toughness.
(Dash and his Grandpa in their mad bomber hats shortly before that sleeper saw more poo than any diaper ever has.)