Allison’s new favorite game is the gravity game. When she wakes up, we have to play the gravity game for several minutes before she will agree to leave the confines of her crib.

What exactly is the gravity game? Well, let me tell you about it. We take everything that is in our crib (and not tied down) and we drop it on the floor. This includes a stuffed doggie, a bear/blanket and typically two pacifiers. The best part of the game is when mommy pretends to catch the items as they fall down (she always misses). Allison laughs hysterically each time an item hits the floor. Now when mommy is trying to catch the items she sometimes bobbles them in the air a few times before they hit the ground. And on the rare occasion that mommy is too exuberant in her bobbling and the item hits the ceiling fan, WHOA! This causes falling down, rolling around on the mattress laughing fits as the bear goes shooting across the room. I know it’s not the safest game in the world, but the pacifiers (projectiles) never get near the ceiling fan.

The bad thing about this game is that on some days it is the game that never ends. As long as mommy retrieves the items, gravity will always take hold and they always hit the floor. For some reason this never gets old. I know you are thinking just stop picking up the items, right? Well, you’ve never seen the wrath of my child. Just as the ceiling fan shooting items across the floor causes laughing fits, mommy not retrieving the items causes fits of a whole other kind (although, both involve falling down and rolling on the mattress). One is accompanied by sweet giggles, while the other consists of shrieks that cause the dog to run for cover.

The amazing thing about the gravity game is that Allison can easily be entertained for 20-30 minutes with this game. So my question is why can’t we find a different game outside the crib where she can entertain herself for 90 seconds while I go to the bathroom?

This was my hubby’s plea a few days ago. Unfortunately for him I was outside chatting with a neighbor when the desperate call came in. What was it that my 32-year-old hubby couldn’t handle by himself? A humongous world-class toddler poop explosion! *hee hee*.

Allison had just woken up from a nap. He went upstairs to get her while I walked our neighbor who had been visiting outside. Unbeknownst to my dear hubby, Allison’s little tummy must’ve been upset because everything that she had eaten in the last day or so was spilling out of her diaper down her legs onto her sheets and everywhere else imaginable. To see how he deals with bodily functions, read this.

He thought I was ignoring his plea for help and this did not help his mood at all in dealing with the diaper explosion. So when I entered the house to hear the bath running, I cautiously headed up the stairs to see what happened. The sight of Allison lying on the changing pad and her daddy precariously holding both of her legs up in the air trying desperately to not get the poop on any other body parts was enough to cause me to laugh hysterically. Again, I was not helping his mood at all. In his defense the stench was pretty bad and the sight of the poop smashed all over her legs, butt, shorts, shirt and changing pad was pretty bad. But it’s just poop and it happens so you gotta deal with it.

So just like the vomit explosion of a few weeks earlier, he took Allison to the bathtub while I changed her crib sheets, all the time trying to convince him that I truly was not ignoring his plea for help.

Whether he believes that or not doesn’t matter. I know he feels avenged because whatever upset Allison’s tummy continued to wreak havoc on her system for the next five days. And when I pleaded for, “ a little help please,” he was at work so I was all on my own.