Maybe We Could Put a Condom On It

I was getting a shower yesterday while Meredith played in her crib and Sabrina, who is sick, snuggled up in my bed watching television.

In the middle of the shower I heard Meredith's noises change from the normal, "I'm bored and I can't see you so I'm going to holler," noises to that urgent noise that any Mom can recognize means fear and pain.

So I jumped out of the shower stark naked with conditioner in my hair and soap all over me (I'll pause while you try and scrub that image off your mind) and ran in to find Meredith had somehow contorted her body so that one leg was stuck through the slats in the crib facing one way and her upper body was turned towards the door the opposite way. She's pretty flexible so it wasn't a permanent injury, just needed a little help getting unstuck.

But I noticed that Sabrina had brought a sippy cup up to my bed with her. You know. The leakproof kind. Hahahaha! Chortle chortle chortle. Snort.

I wouldn't have been half as annoyed had it leaked on Dave's side of the bed, but as Murphy would have it, it was on mine.

Gives a whole new unsexy meaning to "sleeping on the wet spot."