I smell it before I see it.
That awful stench coming from the tiniest butt in this room. Emma’s in the jumper, completely unbothered, chewing on that crinkly book she likes, watching some show that is almost more annoying than Elmo.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” I huff. I just changed her.
I walk toward her even though I dread it. She looks up at me, all wide eyes and two-toothed grin. Innocent. I slowly pull her out of the contraption. And all down both her legs, through the light purple fabric, is undeniably…a full blowout.
I tuck my lips and look back at her bright brown eyes.
“Emma Rose,” I scold, and she laughs. Of course.
I let out a slow breath through my nose, and cross out of the room and toward hers.
“Alright, ya little poop machine,” I mutter, laying her down on the changing table and looking at her as a whole, trying to figure out the best way to handle this biohazard situation. I catch her grinning again, sucking on her hands and kicking her feet as if she’s growing impatient.
“This isn’t funny,” I tell her.
She laughs again.
Getting her undressed without smearing it everywhere is nearly impossible. She’s wiggly and she’s trying to touch it. My heart is beating faster because all I envision is her somehow managing to paint it all over the wall right in front of me if I look away for even a split second.
“Mommy shouldn’t leave me alone with you. You could’ve saved this for Addison, you know,” I mutter.
She babbles something back and kicks her feet like she’s proud of herself.
By the time I’ve got her wiped down and into a clean diaper and fresh outfit, Karissa’s out of the shower and getting dressed in our room. I walk in holding Emma in one arm and the grocery bag with the unsalvageable outfit tied shut inside. Karissa’s eyes shift from me to the bag and she laughs.
“Oh.” She smiles and shifts into that sweet baby voice. “Did you give Daddy a run for his money?”
“Yeah. She did. And she thinks it’s funny.”
“Of course she does. She threw her bowl of oatmeal on the floor this morning and then spit out her milk. And laughed.”
I blow a raspberry on Emma’s cheek, finishing it with a kiss before setting her down on her feet. She stays upright, steady as always. She hasn’t taken those first steps yet, but you can see she’s thinking about it.
“Riss,” I say, low and careful, not wanting Emma to catch on. She’s a stinker. The second she sees we’re talking about her, she’ll plop down and pretend she’s incapable of everything.
Karissa catches my eye, then glances down.
Emma’s still upright, wobbly, her arms slightly out like she’s figuring out her own balance.
We both stand there, still as statues, holding our breath as we watch her lift one foot and take a step.
I smile. Karissa covers her mouth like she’s trying not to make a sound.
Emma takes another step, wobbly, but steady enough, and then looks up at Karissa with that cheesy little grin and a scrunched nose, like she knows she’s doing something pretty cool right now.
Karissa slowly squats down, arms out. “Good job…come here.”
Emma laughs and takes two more quick steps, and Karissa just barely catches her before she face-plants.
“Yay!” Karissa cheers, and I clap.
“Good job, Em. That’s how you do it.”
Karissa looks over at me, smiling, but I don’t miss the shimmer in her eyes or the way her lip trembles.
“Aw. Ha, sweetheart…” I wrap an arm around her neck and pull her into a side hug, pressing a kiss to her temple
