Instinct can always be trusted to incite horror in my heart when need be

This morning I awoke to Bubba frantically calling out, "Peese, peese, peese!" from his crib. The boy's new favorite thing is to say please for things, especially if that thing involves an adult getting him out of something he cannot get out of himself. Crib, high chair, sticky situations, containers. 

Yes, he's well on his way to being one of those people who goes through life getting what he wants by being kind. You know, a charmer. And of course people will start to wonder how on Earth that happened. And I will tire quickly of saying, "Hey, don't look at me."

Well back to the events of this morning, since I could not refuse Bubba's endearing politeness I decided it was my duty to appease him and release him from bondage. I was a little perplexed as to why he had paired his 'peese' with such a distraught tone though.

I clambered, yes clambered, out of bed into Bubba's room. Lacking adequate eyesight without contacts or glasses, I could only make out basic shapes and the figure of my son standing up in the crib, and his stuffed-animal-bedtime-companion on the floor below him. I figured this had been the reason for his slightly panicked demeanor. As I walked closer I noticed Bubba's arms were outstretched towards me. Again, those charms! I gave him a hug as I usually do because he's so lovable in the morning and because I need to remind myself that dragging my body out of bed has a noble purpose. As someone who has earned the title of Not A Morning Person time and time again (please refer all inquiries to the Husband), this morning ritual I just cannot skip or there would be day long undesirable repercussions.

So as I embraced my dear little nice guy, I noticed he was pulling away to show me something. He anxiously offered me his right hand and said, "uh oh oh um ah oh ah." Even with my vacationing brain,  unreliable translation skills, and less than stellar eyesight, my instincts knew that his entire hand was covered in poop.