Yesterday I was told that my grandmother's surgery is going to go on as scheduled, in spite of the fact that she has a bad cold. I want to see her so much. I miss her and the rest of my mom's side of the family terribly because they live in Roanoke, which is over 200 miles away. We don't always have the resources to visit them.

We're going this weekend. I dread the long trip but I loves ma peeples.

When I woke up this morning (after a blissful, rare and much needed full night's rest), Zoe was jumping in her crib like she always does. When I went in to get her I smelled poop, which is also not unusual. If my kids are anything, it's regular. This morning however, was quite ir-regular. She had reached into her diaper at some point and I guessed that point to have been at least an hour before because the poop was dried on. It was all over her hands, up both arms, stuck to both legs, on her shirt, and there were tiny poop particles on her face. This is not the first time I've awakened to find my daughter stinky and with poop on her nose, but this morning was certainly the worst. There was no scraping it all off with a baby wipe, either. Oh no.

This cleanup effort was going to require a bath.

In addition to the mess she made of herself, her crib sheets, doll and one care bear were also smeared in Zoe dung. Putting together the scene using only the clues provided (Zoe, dung, and smear patterns), I surmised the crime to have happened thus:

She pooped, she pulled some out, she played with it, then she jumped in it.

Oddly enough, I'm not even the slightest bit angry or aggravated.

If ever none existed, that alone is proof of what a good night's sleep will do for you.