Michelle and I are having a terrible time lining up our schedules this trip. First, she and Peanut were sick. Now, they're better, but I've got some sort of crud that I don't want to share. Sigh.
Meanwhile, The Lad has decided sleep is way over-rated when a) you're teething so hard your gums are swollen and b) Momma and Daddy respond quickly to your every peep, not wanting to wake the house. Combine all of that with a worn out Boy, and you've got some whooped parents.
But there was some good news yesterday. On the way to the ballgame, The Boy informed us that he did not poo "because I'm a big boy." Not a good idea for him to have, considering he hadn't pooed in like three days and was complaining of a bellyache. We immediately launched some poo propaganda, and apparently, it worked. Later that night, he managed it.
"Whew," The Boy sighed. "I did it."
I told him he sounded like I did after pushing him out. We all cheered like fools, and he got a half-bag of M&Ms for his efforts.
But lest you think I'm getting off easy now I only have one in diapers, let me also tell you that The Lad has mastered crawling. We've had a busy trip.