Dell Harper has been having trouble sleeping lately. She has been having a recurring nightmare that there is a hole in her bed. I have explained to her ad nauseum that there is no actual hole in her bed, but rationality is not a two year old's strong suit. Anyway, apparently the only solution is a cozy spot tucked in my bed. I'm not down with this plan, especially since she sleeps diagonally and takes up twice as much space as I do (when I told her there wasn't any room for her in my bed, she happily pronounced Daddy can just scoot over, Mama1".
Anywhoo, last night after a bad dream, I got in bed with her to calm her down, and promptly fell asleep myself. In a semi-conscious state, I became aware of a decidedly unpleasant odor, but I soldiered on, determined to sleep.
Then something was placed on my mouth. Smeared on my lips by a small little hand.
My eyes flew open to see the giggling culprit.
She smeared poop on my lips.
On my mouth.
I immediately flipped on the light, rubbed off my mouth with the sleeve of my pajamas, and hauled the BM manufacturer into the bathtub. I scrubbed my hands and face over and over while rinsing her off.
I got her clean, in new pajamas, and checked her surroundings for errant fecal matter. Apparently I was the only victim.
Then I checked the clock. 2:38.
You know it's going to be bad day when you have been smeared with shit and it's not even three a.m.