She smeared poop. Yep. Stuck her hand in her diaper and wiped her feces on the baby gate while I was taking a shower.
If I could guess what was going through her little head it was, "Fine, mom. You won't let me in the bathroom? I'll show YOU who's boss!"
The grossest part of it all is, I didn't even notice she had done this until about 3 hours later. Makes me wonder about all the things she touched or ate in between. Yuck.
As nasty as it is to clean up misplaced poop, the situation made me smile. I'm so happy to be in a position where I get to clean up poop. I'm so happy to deal with her tantrums and messes, and, of course, her overall cuteness, because it means I get to be her mother.
Sometimes I look at my little poop machine and I still can't believe she's mine. I still find myself thinking she is too good to be true, that this can't have happened to me. Really? I get to be a mom? I still can't believe it. I wake up in the morning, and I'm so grateful to have my day revolve around her.
Megan is, afterall, the the child we waited 6 years for and the joy we always desired. So, if I have to put up with poop on the gate (or wherever she decides to smear it next), I'm happy to clean it up with a smile.
So, smear on, my daughter. Smear on.