Late Sunday afternoon I put Macy down for a nap. She didn't necessarily cooperate but the bouts of body convulsions were brief as were the guttural sobbing episodes. I attributed this to my always-improving parenting skills and retreated to the living room for a blissful hour or two of quiet.
Upon reflecting on what a peaceful Sunday it was shaping up to be, I decided to check-in on my sleeping child. Upon hitting the hallway to the bedroom, however, I smelled something peculiar, my initial thought being baby powder?
Now scared for my baby's safety, I whipped open the door, to find not Macy but rather some scary alien lying in my toddler's bed, peacefully humming Five Little Monkeys to herself.
The alien sat up to greet me and I screamed bloody murder and started to cry, upsetting the alien, who copied suite and we both continued to cry slash cough from the potent fumes. My brain, now experiencing PTSD, tried to catch up to my eyes and process what exactly had happened.
Macy, in lieu of napping, choose to source a brand new tub of 16 oz Desitin diaper cream (rich and thick formula) from the top shelf of her changing table. She then applied it from head to toe, as one does.
Not one to waste, the remains of the cream, Macy applied all over her Parisian-themed nursery; the furniture, the expensive Anthropologie wallpaper, and, this part is hard to type....give me a moment to compose myself...the carpet.
I proceded to cry, with occasional intermittent bursts of laughter, for the next two hours as I cleaned up the mess.
I've been dealing with this situation as I have all previous trials in my life; humor, drugs and alcohol, therapy, and I suppose specific to this particular incident - a carpet cleaner.
*THE END, but just the beginning in terms of removing the cream from Macy's hair.
- FOLLOWING MEGAN ON SOCIAL MEDIA WILL MAKE YOU SKINNIER, RICHER, + PRETTIER-