Bad smells

This morning was a repeat of morning of recent days: I’m awake, impatiently wait for the coffee to finish brewing, pour myself a large cup, plop down on the sofa and enjoy the caffeine until my two year old wakes and in her groggy, weary-eyed state, toddles out into the living room and quickly snuggles under one of my arms. Today, after finishing my initial quart of coffee, I put on Jack’s Big music Show for Rosie. I lifted both my arms over my head in preparation to haul my thirty-something bum off the sofa. Next thing I knew, Rosie had stuck her nose under one of my arms, wrinkled up her nose, withdrew and quietly said, “Mama, shower.”

In my mind: WOW! She said ‘shower’ and that’s a new word! Woo-hoo! Wait. Was that an insult? How DARE she! I’ve changed a few less than one million wretched diapers that were produced by that same human being. Does she think her poop doesn’t stink?

On the outside, I simply smiled and said, “Yes, Baby. Momma needs a shower.”

I’m not so sure if further development of her vocabulary is really necessary at this point.


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