An email from my wife about my daughter

Yep, this morning she’s your daughter. Not mine, yours. I would never behave like she did.

So I put her in the car and detect a slight odor. I should have gone in and changed her then, but I figured we’d be ok and I wasn’t even sure I smelled anything.

When we got to Mrs. Malik’s I started putting her shoes on her and definitely smelled a smell. Pungent. (Ok, that sounds like she’s my daughter, but I never really agreed to that nickname.) She was getting fidgety (your daughter) and turned herself over in her seat and tried to climb up out of it into the front seats (your daughter).

As she stood up I noticed a rather large brown streak down the back of her darling pink pants.

Not knowing how liquidy said brown mess was I held her very gingerly as I carried her in.

We went straight for the changing mat and I wouldn’t let her sit down lest she soil the carpet too.

The brown mess was caked onto her pants and leg.

I cleaned her leg up some and laid her down to change her diaper.

I got the diaper off, I had her mostly cleaned up and then it happened.

She grinned, she grinned first I tell you, and then peed. Peed on mom. Or at least near mom.

She soaked her shirt, her sweater and her back. I’m surprised her hair wasn’t wet.

And she was giggling.

I got her clothes off of her and she popped right up and started trying to run around naked. She was as happy as could be. Naked and free.

I eventually wrangled her into some clothes and got myself and her super cute clothes cleaned up.

Your. Daughter.

No doubt about it.

It was definitely a more eventful morning than I had planned, but now I’m at work and will be in boring meetings until 4 so I guess I needed some eventfulness. And that definitely sounds like you.

Well I should run. And boy, it’s taken all sorts of self control to not call you and tell you this. But I wanted you to sleep.