Who am I kidding, there's no probably about it: Spot has a bright future as a manicurist.
Spot came to me early in the morning a few weeks ago, crying that she needed a new diaper: “New dah-per, Mommy, new dah-per.” I unzipped her and was assaulted by the smell of the poop that had escaped her diaper and onesie; it was all over inside her footie pajamas. I zipped her back up and carried her to our special hazardous waste containment room. (How I wish sometimes I had a room like that.)
I stripped her in the tub. She was wearing this same long-sleeved rainbow onesie, a onesie with lots of stretch but no snaps at the neckline. It was a hairy few moments, but finally she was all clean.
And I had material for a haiku about New Year’s Resolutions and new beginnings:
‘Poop in my hair,’ she
cries, ‘Mama, help!’ Kid, things can
only get better.
Jane
Happy Wordless Wednesday!
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You hauku, too, huh?
it’s getting harder for me
not so creative
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