With toddlers there’s the occasional poop incident (sometimes usual, though not our case), and Nico is no stranger to this. Today, Julio went to get him from his crib when he woke up in the morning and found Nico in his birthday suit (aka naked) and wearing a hula-hoop something as an accessory. Wait, that was really the diaper which was still attached at around his waist, but he’d managed to rip the bottom part and released all the poop all over the crib and himself. Apparently playing with poop is fun. Who knew? Needless to say Nico got a bath. Immediately.

Here comes the best part of the story though. I had just finished showering and Julio paces quickly into the bathroom, places Nico in the bath tub, and runs into the shower. He mentions the good morning ordeal he had to confront, and so I laughed and bathed Nico. To my surprise (although really at this point nothing surprises me much anymore) when Nico finished his bath and we went into his bedroom I noticed the entire poop mess was still in the crib. [at this point you could que in the horror music from the movies] My dear husband had not even picked up the poop pieces laying in the crib, and the diaper was still nicely thrown right in there in the mix. I yelled at him for that and his response was “Well, how was I supposed to deal with that? I don’t know how to pick that up.” I mean, really?! Use darn baby wipes to pick up the poop, put it all back in the diaper, and get rid of it. And to think he’s got a PhD. Honestly, I wasn’t surprised, but I was annoyed and somewhat upset at his lack of [insert what you please]. Men can be idiots, I guess. (Sorry Baby, I know you’ll eventually read this). So who ended up doing the dirty job, or cleaning it rather?…the slave to all. Call me the maid, or whatever. I think this entitles me to an opinion about men, and it’s not a good one in this case. Thank God for women.