One time, when I had just three, ages 4, 2, and 8 months, I went home to my parents without my husband. I was a little nervous about the 4 hour drive with the little ones, but I knew I could make it without a stop. Or so I thought.
My youngest got a stinky diaper and proceeded to stick her hand in it (it was summer and she was in a romper). It smelled, and she was dirty… and she was a thumb sucker! I pulled quickly off the highway in order to see to this poop-tastrophe. As I was changing the diaper in the car in the parking lot of a gas station, my oldest started pointing out the car door and saying, “It’s a pirate! It’s a pirate!” I said something like, “Um hmm, that’s nice.” But she got more excited saying, “Mommy, the pirate!” so I turned around. Read the rest of this entry