My poor husband. He had a terrible day with the baby today.
It started with a diaper explosion before lunch. Declan was in his bouncer, and Daniel didn't realize that the bouncer had basically pushed all the poop up the back of his shirt, all over his neck and arms. Ugh. Then Daniel picked him up and got poo all over his shirt, hands and neck.
It was bad enough that apparently the only way to get Declan clean was to put him under the faucet before even trying to take his clothes off. Of course, he didn't like that and cried the whole time.
Fast forward a couple hours. Declan managed to pull the torchiere over and it shattered into a million pieces all around Daniel and the baby. Of course, it scares Declan to death, so he's crying. Daniel's barefoot and trying to figure out how to get out from all the glass.
He finally gets the baby out to the family room, then comes back to assess the damage. He goes back to get the broom, and finds Declan chewing on a dead, desiccated lizard! That's when he called me and said, Come home now.
Poor, poor Daniel. I bought him ice cream to make up for all that.