(It’s Not What You Think)


My intentions for this blog post were to write about the Christmas and my disdain for shopping for presents, but in life (and in parenthood), sometimes things don’t always go how you plan. (And by “always,” I mean “never.”)

Instead of a deep, meaningful dissertation on the meaning of Christmas, in the spirit of “Let you heart be light!” (a motto which I’ve adopted for this particular holiday season), let me share this little story from our trip the mall today:

Ryan and I had some final Christmas gifts to grab, and in hopes of avoiding the masses, we decided to venture out on this non-weekend morning with E.V. in tow. We were prepared–lots of food on hand, toys for entertainment, and Elmo cued up on our phones just in case. She was happily snacking away on crackers, cheddar bunnies and chocolate chips (my ultimate secret be-quiet snack) and had made it about halfway through our shopping when Ryan walked over to me with E.V. in his arms and whispered in a panicked tone, “I need a diaper and wipes now.” I was checking out, so I shrugged him off, and as we walked out of the store, he was clearly disgusted and unhappy. Apparently he had scooped up Emma Vance (who had been running off some of her energy while I paid for our purchases), only to discover poop smeared all the way up her back.

I’m kinda’ in that fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants phase of motherhood, so I very rarely bring diapers with me anywhere that I’ll be less than a few hours; Emma Vance hasn’t had a public poop-cident in ages, and changing a wet diaper in public is more trouble than it’s worth unless it’s going to be a while until we make it home. In this case, though, let me just say that my first reaction was of the uh-oh nature. I began evaluating what we should do when it occurred to me–Where was the smell??? Knowing my child and her, um, bodily functions better than I’d like to admit, something didn’t add up, so I decided to investigate myself. As I peered down her diaper, a grin came across my face.

“It’s a chocolate chip.”



Ryan refused to believe me, but I have enough experience to know the difference. Somehow Little Miss Mischief had stuck a chocolate chip down the back of her diaper where it had melted and, quite understandably, been mistaken for poop. Ryan was in utter disbelief until I (jokingly) challenged him, “I will eat it if you want me to in order to prove that it’s a chocolate chip.” A quick trip the bathroom to wipe off the sweet treat from my sweetie’s bottom, and we were back in business. (Watch out ladies–I think that this story gives me an unfair advantage next time I’m at a baby shower where we have to identify melted candy bars in diapers…)

So now, instead of having some deep, meaningful things to ponder about your own intentions with Christmas gift shopping, I leave you (hopefully) with a little moment of laughter at our expense. Oh, well…let your heart be light! :)


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