I'll let you know right now that it did flit through my head yesterday morning that I couldn't remember how many diapers I'd been through the day before. I usually tote around 3-5 of them and a package of wipes. Not those polite little recyclable containers, because I find they don't dispense moist wipes at critical moments.
It was a particularly stinky mess I'd cleaned up when I reached into the diaper bag and drew back empty handed. "Oh no." I said.
"What's up," Karen asked from the kitchen.
"No diapers." I was thinking, oh right, one change at the gym, two at Kim's yesterday. Three diapers gone.
"Oh," Karen said casually, "No problem. I might have some."
Karen is the quintessential hostess, so it would not surprise me if she did have a package of diapers even though her baby is nearly seven in the same way that my Gramma Jean (whose birthday is today - Happy Birthday, Gramma!) always has several different brands of cigarettes tucked away in her freezer in case you should run out even though she hasn't smoked since she was in her thirties.
"No," she said. "I'll just send Chris to get some at CVS."
The menfolk with Ross in tow went to get some diapers while we kept Lindsay in the kitchen. Karen was preparing salads for dinner and I was enjoying a beverage. Lindsay splashed happily in Pixie's water dish.
"I can move them if you'd like," I said.
"No need." Karen replied. "There's not much damage a little bit of water's going to do to the kitchen."
Lindsay wandered back and peed on the floor a couple of inches from my feet. "Oh, I see we didn't make it to diapers." As I stood up, I noticed that she'd also fertilized the floor. "Oh no." I said. "Poop."
"No problem," Karen said. We cleaned the mess together with paper towels. She sprayed the floor with some Method cleaner and all was right with the world, until we realized that poop had just been a distraction.
Why yes, that is my naked toddler giving herself a beer bath in a puddle of cat water.