I awoke with a jolt this morning to the melodious sound of my son screeching, "POO POO EV-VY-WHEY-O" repeatedly at the top of his lungs. Out of bed I jumped and ran to find him, thinking that he probably tried to wipe himself. Wrong. He had made a great effort to get to the potty on time, even taking his own diaper off and throwing it into the trash, but he got as far as the stool and it was over. All over. I hate poop. To top it off, as I was in the thick of the clean up, I heard the garbage truck drive by...without our trash. Oops. I just found out that we were supposed to be at my in-laws' for Dad's birthday breakfast. I won't be shocked if our car blows up on the drive over. I could be grouchy right now, but my punkin just said, "Tanks foe be-een my big how-per, Momma", so I think it's going to be a good day after all. :)