SBG has had quite a day.
It began with a her consuming a fistful of finger paint. As she stuffed the teal paint in her mouth, she looked at me like, "Mom, this breakfast sucks." Somehow, within seconds, the paint was behind her ear, in her hair and on the bottoms of her feet. I pulled off her clothes and stuck her in the sink.
When Pman was a little bot, I used to bathe him in the sink regularly. We have a different sort of sink in this house and she never quite fit, so she has pretty much always been in the bathtub.
For her bathing in the sink was new and mystical, like unicorns and leprechauns.
I thought that was going to be her discovery for the day, her learning experience, if you will.
I was wrong.
Pman has been sick. Fever. Puke. And an added bonus today, diarrhea. During his nap he had a bit of an accident. I was cleaning up that mess when I heard a loud thump followed by an even louder wail.
You know the song, "Ten Little Monkey Jumping on the Bed"? We lived it out today.
It seems SBG was jumping on Pman's bed while holding onto the bedrail. I scooped her up off the floor and asked P if he saw exactly what happened. I was in the room, but otherwise occupied.
He said, "She did this."
He then laid face down, flat out on the floor.
The sweet P-Nut was crying so hard she was not making any noise. I held her and sang "You Are My Sunshine" to her as I stared at the poop stains on P's rug.
In these moments parents feel like, "Wow, this is such a unique situation and others will be enraptured by my tale."
We are wrong. These are parenting moments and they are a dime a dozen. We all have them and will continue to tell them to each other with a certain amount of intensity and wonderment.
However, my SBG has her first shiner. Her sad sweet face breaks my heart a little.