Poop. It's amazing how when you become a parent, things that once made you wrinkle up your nose in disgust don't bother you at all.
On Saturday we trucked to Dickinson for my cousin Kelly's wedding. It was a great opportunity to see family we hadn't seen in a long time. Those Ebach's are wild!
So we're sitting in the wedding and Ben, as usual, is driving his truck around and the "motor" is loud. It seems like the more we "shh" the louder the motor gets.
"bbbbbbbbbrrroooooooooooommmmm. beep.beep. bbbbbbrrroooommm."
Towards the end of the service we smell it. And both Rob and I look at each other wondering who smelt it first because in our family we have a strict whoever-smelt-it-changes-it policy. Ultimately though it came down to the realization that there was a much higher chance of finding a changing table in the woman's restroom vs the men's.
In the restroom, while the wedding is finishing, I find the worst-case scenario. Ben has blown through his diaper, his onesie and his dress pants. So I find myself with two options. I can either put his pants back on him and pretend like it didn't happen or I can carry him out of the restroom without any pants on. Well, after a quick inspection of the pants I vetoed option one for health reasons.
I got lots of looks as we exited the church. It's the same pity-look you get when your child is throwing a tantrum. The "I-soooooo-know-what-you're-going through" "Glad-it's-you-and-not-me" look.
After we loaded our pantsless prince into the car we trucked off to Wal-Mart. Rob thought there was just something super-duper classy about being in Wal-Mart without any pants on.
On Saturday we trucked to Dickinson for my cousin Kelly's wedding. It was a great opportunity to see family we hadn't seen in a long time. Those Ebach's are wild!
So we're sitting in the wedding and Ben, as usual, is driving his truck around and the "motor" is loud. It seems like the more we "shh" the louder the motor gets.
"bbbbbbbbbrrroooooooooooommmmm. beep.beep. bbbbbbrrroooommm."
Towards the end of the service we smell it. And both Rob and I look at each other wondering who smelt it first because in our family we have a strict whoever-smelt-it-changes-it policy. Ultimately though it came down to the realization that there was a much higher chance of finding a changing table in the woman's restroom vs the men's.
In the restroom, while the wedding is finishing, I find the worst-case scenario. Ben has blown through his diaper, his onesie and his dress pants. So I find myself with two options. I can either put his pants back on him and pretend like it didn't happen or I can carry him out of the restroom without any pants on. Well, after a quick inspection of the pants I vetoed option one for health reasons.
I got lots of looks as we exited the church. It's the same pity-look you get when your child is throwing a tantrum. The "I-soooooo-know-what-you're-going through" "Glad-it's-you-and-not-me" look.
After we loaded our pantsless prince into the car we trucked off to Wal-Mart. Rob thought there was just something super-duper classy about being in Wal-Mart without any pants on.
Love it!
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