A double standard

Our daughter has recently begun telling us when she soils her diaper, which is a pretty exciting time for parents. So naturally, we bought her a training toilet. At this stage of the game, we aren't exactly trying to potty train, but we're just introducing the idea to her.

Silly me, yesterday morning I was cleaning the kitchen and I said "Michelle, let's take your diaper off, just to see what happens." I then pointed at her potty and asked if she was interested in sitting there. After a scorching glare, she tore off in the opposite direction.

Not five minutes later, she came running from her toy corner, screaming and panicking about the gross stuff stuck to her feet. (Insert the knowing head nod here). After throwing my distressed child in the tub and washing away all her troubles, I couldn't help but chuckle as I proceeded to clean up a stinky pile, and foot prints that fled from the scene. This was a great way to spend my morning.

It was then that I discovered the double standard of poop on the carpet. If my dogs ever have an accident in the house, I get mad at them, even though it is usually my fault for not taking them out when they've expressed adement interest. But the baby poops and I laugh at my own mistake. I really felt wise.

Later in the afternoon, I took Michelle out to play, and when I returned, the dogs had gotten into our garbage, and had shred stinky debris all over our apartment. I was livid, even though I knew that I had pulled the garbage bag out to take it outside, but forgot about it in the kitchen.

It's quite a double standard. I don't feel wise anymore. Maybe there's a lesson to be learned here: poop on the carpet stinks.