It's 4:30pm. I'm down to the last diaper, and my son is wearing it. My husband will be home in an hour. "Oh, it's no big deal," I say to myself, "I'll text him and ask him stop by the store on the way home and pick up more."
Guess what happens next?
Yep. Bingo. I know there's a universal law about kids in clean diapers.
One day my son will thank me for not snapping a photo of him wearing a dish towel, safety-pinned around his chunky-monkey bum. He may not appreciate me writing a blog post about it, but at least I didn't pull out my camera. So, technically, there's no proof. I could be making up this whole story.
But I'm not. And it was so darn funny. If I could only figure out how to be that resourceful with my time. I'd be a superhero.