I was so sure that I had licked The Diaper Monster. I was positive that the almost 48-straight hours of baby treatment had defeated it.
I was sitting here, feeling great. Sore, yes, because I did Pilates yesterday for the first time in about a year. But A went off to school with a good attitude and he seemed intent on behaving well today. (Which is really good news for me, as he's been in trouble every day this week.) I got some new music on iTunes that I've been blaring. I started to clean up for this weekend's visit from Misha and her boys, Luc and D. And I am always happier when I have a cleaner house. So on my way downstairs to the laundry room, I peeked into the toy room at C, playing his video game. It was so cute. I smiled.
And then I smelled.
I seriously wanted to hit the roof. HOW has the baby treatment, that he has so much hated, not kept him from doing this yet again?!?!?!?!?! I thought this week was over, and it's been one hell of a week. But no. The Diaper Monster had to rear it's ugly head again.