You'll have heard the saying 'Shit sticks'? Well, I have it on good authority that it does indeed stick. Over-swinging a little on the desire to get Grace into good habits on having her 5-a-day, we opened her Grobag this morning to be greeted by a poop explosion of Kiwi fruit and Green Giant niblets. Not only had the brown stuff breached the nappy and the PJs, but the vest and sleeping bag as well. Holy crap, one might say.
Short of getting kitted out in a hazmat suit, Matt the Husband pegged his nose and took the offender through to the bathroom to be hosed off. A question for you first though:
Q: How do you get a vest off of a toddler that's covered in crap without smearing it all over her face and hair?
A: Simply put, without a pair of scissors you can't.
Grace stood looking confused and sorry for herself holding onto the edge of the bath with a proud smear up her back and a daubing on her cheek teetering on the brink of sliding down to her chin at the next shiver.
I must remember to tell her to get her shit together.