Oh, the humanity.

Lately Jim's naps have more often just been 'quiet time' during which he can sleep or read his books or play with blocks or what have you. So Noah and I didn't think much of it today when he spent the noon hour clapping his hands and chortling to himself instead of sleeping quietly. Until, that is, I came back down the hall from a bathroom visit (damn my shrinking bladder).


Five points to anyone who can guess what's on his hands without reading the rest of this post.

So, anyway, I came wandering down the hall while Jim carefully put the finishing touches on a particularly impressive tower. The second he heard me coming, he rushed to the gate across his doorway and started waving at me. "Poop," he yells. "Poop! Poop! Poop!"

Fool that I am, I didn't stop immediately. I waved back and gave him a half-hearted "Yes, Jim, poo-" but before I could finish, the smell hit me. Then I noticed his hands. And his face. And the walls. And the glue holding his spectacular tower together.

Naturally, I yelled for Noah immediately. He stripped and popped into the shower with Jim while I assembled all the supplies I could muster and started wiping down Jim's room. We haven't sorted through everything yet, but I think we only have two or three victims of Jim's experimentation to throw away, so it could be worse.

Still, I'm using this as an excuse to zip Jim into a full-length onesie before naptime every day. Backwards, if need be.