Oh, yes. You're probably curious about the trouble I got myself into when I left off on my previous post, before we flew off to Maine. Yes, we are in Maine. I'm not afraid to say it. Getting over my irrational fear of those unscrupulous burglars. No sense to worry. People are at our house and two cats, (you burglars). And there are security guards, with guns.
Anyway, I digress. So, I was changing Milo's diaper, while he was standing up. I slid off his wet diaper, wiped him clean and slid up his pull-up diaper. It's a boon to man kind, pull up diapers. Especially when baby's become toddlers and they don't like to lie down so much. And I do pride myself on my role as grandmother. I like my children to know they can count on me, that at the very least I know how to diaper a baby, properly.
Anyway, Daughter drove over with the boys for my birthday and we were going out to lunch. I love a birthday, and it doesn't have to be mine. Daughter has inherited the same joyous propensity for celebration and we like to whoop it up every opportunity we get. So, we were ready to buckle the boys into their car seats, after I changed Milo's diaper, for my birthday lunch, and as I lowered Milo into the car I mentioned to Daughter that my top felt slightly damp, and so did Milo's top...and his shorts...oh my gosh, and his socks and shoes!
Daughter immediately peeked at Milo's diaper. Yes, I had once again left something out, just a
tiny little bit. My third time. Really? I need help.
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