According to Jen, water and handsoap gets baby feces out of clothes. Please tell me you're not eating right now...if so, I'm sorry.

Each and every time I show the girls this toy, I end up tap-tap-tapping on it for long stretches, long after the girls have wandered off to do something else. It's like a zen garden, soothing in it's utter simplicity and tapability.

Tonight was supposed to be ECFE. S'posed to be. When I got to day care, I picked up Lily and smelled The Smell. I didn't even have a chance to ask them if I could change her diaper there before I felt The Moisture. I held her away from me and saw that a good portion of her pants were wet, and were sliding from blue to brown.

At that point I was holding her away from me, and my first instinct was to check myself for contamination, which struck me as slightly bad form. I felt kinda prima donna-ish checking myself for poopy residue, but Lily was laughing through it all, so my narcissism falls somewhere short of incompetent parenting.

Of course, this was her second Defcon 5 poop (I just caught the last 16 minutes of Wargames on TBS last night) of the day, so she had no onesies at day care; only a couple overshirts and a jumper. I opted for the jumper, but wasn't sure how warm it was. I was considering the possibility of running home before ECFE before the creeping and enjoyable notion of skipping it altogether took hold.

I finally got Lils out to the car where my phone was ringing Jen's ring. Apparently her car was making a catastrophically bad sound and Abby hadn't napped and was proportionately crabby. The final nail had been driven into ECFE's coffin for us, so it was back to the house.

Dinner. Bath. Bed. Then more fun with Jen handwashing the Lilypoo out of two outfits while I tried to ascertain whether the beef we'd taken out of the freezer a few days ago was still good (it was decidedly not). I decided dinner should be easy, so a frozen tray of enchildas clanged into the oven. The box said 45 minutes, which would have put us right at 8:10. We didn't eat until 8:50.

Finally on the couch with some food, I decided to watch tv. I rarely feel that tv is a great option, but I was very much in the mood for a dollop of lazy with my enchiladas. Maybe PBS would have something good on. The best I could find was Steve Wozniak dancing with all the style and grace of a houseplant. I turned it off within minutes.

So much to gripe about. Yet, thanks to the two idiots sleeping upstairs, it's an unequivocal success of a day.

Day forty three.

Ditched the camera; non-today-taken pictures are in order.

I think Mommy's getting more out of this than Abs.

The basket holds dozens of books, but only one has fuzzy bunny ears. It's a no-brainer. Thanks to the Bensons for that one.

Drinking out of a bowl: 0 out of 5.