Rite of Passage- Again

As soon as you open the door to your child's room, you know. I mean, you really KNOW. It's the smell. Waking up to a baby (and crib, stuffed animals, mattress, walls, etc) covered in, well... POOP is one of the least fun rites of passage for any parent.

The bad news, as if that wasn't bad enough, is that it renews for EACH CHILD.

This morning, I found Silvia standing in her crib, hands raised in the classic, "Uh-oh" gesture, looking at me. "Poo-poo?", she asked, clearly a bit puzzled. Then, with a wide grin, so utterly charming except for the yuck all over her, "Uh-oh, mess." Ha. That's for damn sure.

I plopped her in the tub, which now has to be scrubbed with bleach during precious nap time hours. Holding my breath the entire time, I sent Anna down to raid the pantry while I cleaned... and soaped... and scrubbed. As I combed out her hair while trying not to actually look, I was visited by a vivid and nearly identical memory: the morning thrill of discovery with Anna in that very same crib and state of quizzical filth.

I know everyone says their babyhood passes too quickly, but these moments are ones I am happy to (hopefully) leave behind. No put intended.