So the other night I was settled in and snuggling my little one on the couch when she made it well known that her diaper was becoming full (think red-faced grunting, and a tell-tale odor emitting from her usually cute little self).
I sighed, heaved her up over my shoulder and trudged into the nursery. I'll admit I was tired and getting off the couch was the last thing I had wanted to do. But I met my obligatory mommy duty and began to peel off her pants to tackle whatever surprise awaited me. The diaper came off and within it was the usual poo. I grabbed wipes and cleaned her little bum thoroughly.
Here's the thing about my little one, she loves a clean bum (can we blame her?) so the whole time I was cleaning her she was cooing and smiling and carrying on with her little kicky legs. Fricken. Adorable.
Well daddy decides to come see what all the happiness was about and join in on the fun. He grabbed her little feet and kissed her toes, lifted his head, smiled at me and I shit you not folks (pun intended), there is poo in his mustache!!!! In my sleepiness I must have missed when she planted her foot into her dirty diaper while I was changing her. Yikes.
So then I have this little internal conflict of weather or not I ruin all the fun and tell my sweet husband that he is sporting a poo mustache. But my look must have said it all because he gets dead serious and says "what the hell is it?! I can tell something is up by the way you are looking at me". I broke the news as gently as I could, but he got all pale and ran out, careening down the hall to the bathroom. Poor guy.
He wandered wide-eyed back in to the nursery a few minutes later, mustache dripping with water. I could smell the soap from across the room. I smiled at him cautiously, trying to gauge his state of mind after coming so dangerously close to poo in his mouth. He then takes me by complete surprise when he winks at me, coyly smiles, and says "It smells like shit in here! Or is that just my mustache?"
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