Deserving Of Its Own Post

Some background is in order: Karl's parents are neat.  Really, really neat.  I was a little afraid to stay at their house for like three years because I couldn't even comprehend, let alone maintain, the level of orderliness in their house.  It's not even like they're simply good at cleaning things (which they are); it's like things never get dirty in the first place.  Anyway, their house is really clean, which is less intimidating than it used to be, but still no less perplexing.

As you may recall, we let Henry have some naked time every evening before bed.  Lately we have noticed that he practically never pees during naked time anymore -- as it turns out, there's a whole philosophy of potty training based on "nakedtime" that I'd never heard of until I started wondering why he didn't pee while naked.  We started doing naked time because it keeps the diaper rash at bay, but if it makes training easier next year, so much the better.

So we were at Karl's parents' place after Gene's party.  7:00 rolls around and we start talking about doing some naked time, assuring Carol and her off-white carpets that Henry practically never pees during naked time anymore.  Off comes the diaper and Henry starts cruising around naked.  He plays happily for awhile, then starts practicing his new pulling-up skills on the back of a dining room chair.  The baby gets suspiciously quiet for a few seconds, then Karl shouts, "Oh my God, he's pooping!"  We all rushed over to find a lovely little gift on the rug, stared at it dumbfounded for a second, then started laughing hysterically as we rushed for the cleaning products.

There I was, worried for years about where to put away the grape juice (on the fridge door, lower left), and Henry poops on the rug before his first birthday.  That first grandchild really can get away with anything, can't he?