Errors

Today Lyla's highchair came in the mail, so I put it together. Julie picked it out based on reviews that touted its ease of cleaning. It also looks like something aliens would use, as though you'd visit Mars and not recognize anything but then see this chair and think, well that's what they must put their babies in.

I got the idea that Lyla would enjoy sitting in this chair and watching me make dough for a pizza crust. She would giggle and try to applaud, bouncing against the chair's straps. In actuality, she sat pleasantly until the moment I poured the wet ingredients into the bowl with the dry ingredients and plunged my hands in. Then she decided that the current scenario was most unsatisfactory.

Unfortunately, this was a new dough recipe and I couldn't just ditch it. Nor do we have a mixer, so I did my best to placate the child while simultaneously kneading the dough, adding water, adding more water, and nearly dropping the whole thing on the floor. To an older child or adult, this would have been a hilarious spectacle, especially when I started singing the music that always plays at the circus when the clowns come out and engage in clownery.

But Lyla was not even slightly amused, so I got that dough ball into the pre-oiled bowl as soon as I could, washed my hands, and pulled her out of the chair. She had shat herself silly, which I hadn't heard, probably due to the clown music, but realized the moment I patted her back to calm her. I believe sitting in the chair contributed to the diaper malfunction, but I suppose it's not the chair's fault entirely.

Upstairs I realized that we were out of clean long-sleeved onesies, except for the one that makes no sense. (Apologies if you bought it for us.) It has collars, like something you'd put on a doll or a puppy, and it makes her look like a boy. (But thank you for it! You're awesome!)


When Julie got home, she informed me that I had put the onesie on backwards, and I recalled upstairs thinking it strange that the snap-crotch snapped a bit further back than the crotch, which is more information than anyone needs. Plus, after a whole day of Lyla objecting to a proper nap, here's what happened when she hit her mother's arms:


So all in all, much of today was a comedy of errors. I'm ready for the weekend, and I'm ready for pizza.