I'm sorry to do this to you, dear readers, but this will be yet another post about...you guessed it! Poop.
I hear Addie stirring after a long nap this afternoon, and go in to check on her. Little did I know that she would be stirring her own poop.
Yep. She had yet again pulled off her pull-up (grrr....) and on her pillow was a perfect, unmarred impression of her butt. In poop.
I'm not sure about the mechanics of this. Did she poop in her pull-up, then roll around on her butt for a while to get it evenly spread on both cheeks, then carefully remove her pants, make the buttprint on her pillow, then stand up, making no other marks anywhere?
So, I walk in, and she's standing there, her poopy pants around her ankles, poop all down her legs, holding her arms out, looking horrified, like Carrie at the prom.
To my credit, I did not freak out. I just put her in her bath, talked to her again about what a good idea it would be to poop in the potty, and threw a load of laundry in.
I wanted to freak out. Oh, did I want to. But I couldn't--she was so bummed (ha-ha) at the situation that I couldn't make it worse for her. When I gently suggested that next time she could go poop in the potty she said, "Yes, Mommy. I will go poop in the potty." And I know she probably won't. Still, I was proud of her for thinking it might be a good idea. There's always hope.