Yesterday Lucy was upstairs by herself (which is never a good idea) so I called up to see what she was doing.
She ran out of her brother's bedroom (again, never good) and proclaimed "I'm making you a present!"
How sweet, I thought.
"Lucy, can you come downstairs and make my present?" I asked, in a weak attempt to get her downstairs.
She smiled sweetly and exclaimed "Yes!"
I was surprised at her eagerness because usually I have to go up and chase her down. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, I could smell her stinky diaper. I said, "Lucy you're stinky!" and she smiled...
and pointed to her bottom and said "A present for you!"
It's my own fault. Every time Ben is home, and I smell a dirty diaper (because I always smell it first) I say to him, "Lucy has a present for you!" My snarky wit has caught up with me.
I probably deserved that present.
And I should probably make myself start potty training her. Dude, I hate potty training.