Half Hour of Madness

So yesterday my sister called and 5 minutes into the conversation the tiny one poops all over me. As I am laying him on the ground to change not only his diaper but his clothes as well as mine. . . I dropped him on his head. Yes. It was horrible. Thankfully I only dropped him about 2-3 inches but still. He cried, I cried it was a mess. Oh my goodness then came the guilt.

So I get past the guilt, get everyone cleaned up and am reviewing the whole incident in my head when I recalled that the last words I said to my sister before I hung up were "Holy crap I just got shit on I've gotta go." And right after I said those words my adorable toddler sprang into action and got me a baby diaper and the wipes - before I even stood up (where I later dropped the baby). So . . . after I had time to reflect on this whole incident it occurred to me that the toddler knows what I meant when I used the word shit. Shit. This means I can't cuss anymore. That is what this means right?

I no sooner have this revalation than I get another call and am on the phone for a very short period of time when my toddler - Mr. Lucas - cracks himself on the bridge of his nose with the vacuume handle. So I kiss and make it all better (it took about 10 kissess though) and realize that it is bruising and began to worry that the poor kid would get raccoon eyes. Thankfully he didn't and thankfully everything was all better after he was allowed to eat sugar cereal right before dinner. I know. I'm bad. But hey, it is survival of the fittest around here in the late afternoons so anything goes.