Monday ...

It's been one of those Mondays so far. It started off innocently, and I even got a little play time outside with Wilder and his newest fascination, snails. Correction: putting snails on toy cars (I don't know what he thinks might happen, because I'm pretty sure a snail doesn't know a '57 Chevy replica from, say, a mushroom, but still, we persist in putting the critters on the cars and, I guess, waiting for the engine to start). But all too soon it was time for Jer to load the kids in the car for daycare. I went to grab Hunter, who was playing on his activity mat. And that's when things went south.

Some strange hiccup/sneeze thing happened and, within seconds, the kid had projectile emptied his entire stomach contents. Halfway through I snatched him up and he emptied half of it on me. Poor thing (him, not me).

So now he's had a bath (and I a change of clothes). I got him dried and lotioned and dressed and fed again. He started yawning so I laid him down for a nap. He crapped his pants. I undressed him, changed him again, resnapped him up. He crapped his pants again. Repeat. Back down to bed and now he's fast asleep and seems immune to my repeated entries to make sure all is still right in his world and his diaper.

Funny thing is, he never cried once. In fact, he mostly smiled. Much like Wilder was when he was little, and probably all little ones are to some extent, Hunter is a trooper. Not much rattles that kid.

And so, I take a page from my kids' manuals, and just write this morning off as the kind of thing that happens when you have the wee ones. Sure, you might get puked on, you might change four diapers in 45 minutes, and somewhere in between all that, you might give yourself a near-concussion on the kitchen cabinet door and have to lie on the floor clutching your head for a couple mintues, moaning (yes, I did). But when it's all said and done and that little Biggie Smalls who's fast asleep in his crib right now gives you one of his killer, heart-melting, gut-wrenchingly lovable smiles, well, hell ... who really gives a damn? I'd get puked on every day for those smiles.