So there, I am sitting on the couch, punching keys on the old MacBook. The kiddo is upstairs, gated into her room, but obviously not asleep (based on the occasional footsteps and bumping). But I’m not concerned, since I know she’ll pass out soon.
Then I hear a little sound. cough…cough
I bound up the stairs, worried that perhaps my progeny is choking on a small toy or perhaps has strangled herself with the bed linens while trying to act out her fantasy of being a SCUBA diver.
And what do I find when I reach the room? My 2 year old standing at the gate across her threshold, slathered in Aquaphor. Oh my.
The kiddo is covered; her hands look like they’re in gooey mittens. She’s managed to smear the goop all over the gate and there’s some in her hair too. My wife has picked a perfect night to be out.
I grabbed the kiddo and rushed her across to the bathroom to assess the damage. Fortunately, it didn’t appear that she’d eaten any of the stuff and when I asked (fifteen or twenty times) she denied it. Ok, so she’s not going to keel over and I don’t have to call poison control. Whew!
Anyhow, we’re all cleaned up now and she’s finally asleep a mere three hours past bedtime. When I went to check on her a little while ago, she was sleeping on the floor, covered by a tiny quilt from her doll’s crib. And breathing like an angel.