Rocking Porter

I wish it were as sweet as it sounds. But life usually has a way of being less than what we expect. True, sometimes more, but frequently less. Anyway, I mentioned in an earlier blog that Porter has a strong need for a diaper change anytime there is any amount of poop in his diaper. Well, today my friend LeShel, soon to be my friend LeShel in Wisconsin, was over here with her son Isaak. Now we know that Brigham and Isaak have a tendency to get into trouble when they are together, or near each other, or thinking about each other, but today after we had found the hose run under the patio to the cats bed, and the gravel on the trampoline, we figured they may rest for a time.

Again, things never go as expected. So, after making Brigham and Isaak put up the ladder that they had taken down so that Porter couldn't get on the trampoline with them, the boys played for a while and then came in. They went straight downstairs and while we should have thought something was up, we didn't. So, a few minutes later, Porter comes saying his usual eeeeew and pointing at his diaper. So, I checked to see how much poop was actually in there (mother’s do this though I’m sure none of us really knows why). When I looked, I found he had "pooped" rocks. Now I have seen him stuff a complete chess set up his shorts so I would have been fooled into thinking he did this to himself, except, the rocks were in the back, and Porter only stuffs the front. I removed what I thought was all the rocks and made him go play. Only after twenty minutes of playing did he come up and insist forcefully enough to make me check his pants again, did I find two last pointy little rocks stuck in the diaper.

Oh, the entertainment that goes on in my home due to these blessed boys. I do love them, but I think I also secretly fear them.