I had a crappy afternoon. I really don't want to talk about it. Wait, yes I do. I have chosen to express my feelings and simultaneously exact my revenge on Gemma in the most maternally satisfying way possible. The future boyfriend letter. This WILL be printed and saved for a later date.
Dear Gemma's High School Boyfriend,
Today was a special day for your now grown-up (and potty trained...I hope) girlfriend. It didn't start out special but somewhere around Gemma's nap time things got interesting. You see, my little baby girl is in a state of sort-of-potty-training. She is fond of removing her own diapers and running around the house with her ample baby butt jiggling for all the world to see. (You see what I'm doing Gemma? This is called payback. I'm into delayed gratification.) Anyhow, dear, sweet, beautiful Gemma was found in her crib with a neatly folded diaper in her hand and poop everywhere else.
"Mommy, I had a poopy diapoo." (Hopefully she has her "r's" down by now too)
"Oh, God help me...." I cried.
This was my afternoon. Cleaning poop off of the cabbage patch doll that used to be mine 25 years ago, and vacuuming dried poop chunks from the carpet, And doing lots of laundry (with a heavy hand while pouring the bleach,) and bathing one, very cute, feces encrusted toddler. This is my life. I really do love it despite my irritated tone at the moment.
So future boyfriend, the moral of the story is, Gemma did silly things as a baby. Gross things. And if you don't think through the consequences of your actions you too might be cleaning poop off of a crib very soon.
Erin (That's Mrs.Smith to you buck-o)