An Article Called...

2.5 Years: “Mama, you should write an article called, ‘My Baby Pooped on the Floor of the Living Room Just Now.’”

Shit happens. And, when you have a toddler, it happens in the most inconvenient places, at the most inconvenient times—for example, on the floor, in the living room, with a deadline for work approaching in just twenty minutes.

My daughter had learned that, if I seemed really absorbed in something, it was because I was writing. There wasn’t much way around it. From her perspective, work was something that Mommy was constantly tied up in, but—at least, much of the time—I was writing about her, or something having to do with her. It wasn’t uncommon for her, after doing something cute or funny, to later suggest that I write an article about it. Frequently, I would.

Unfortunately, the day came when a suggestion for an article preceded my discovery of something that she had done. And, at the time, it wasn’t really very funny at all. I told her that I would not write an article about my baby pooping on the floor, since I had plenty of deadlines whooshing by me already, but that maybe—just maybe—one day I would retell the story and actually think it was funny and pleasant instead of just cringe-inducing.

I have to admit that, predictably, three years down the road, it is kind of funny.