I’m standing in the kitchen making sippies and I hear my son, who has stripped his clothes all off because he’s a nudist, toddling around the corner, his diaper making that little crunchy sound and his how-are-they-sticky little feet making that thwick thwick thwick sound.   

“da?” (one da is me a double is dad)

“yes baby?”

“oops”

“oops?” i said without looking up.  “that’s a new one, you’ll be reciting the dictionary by the end of the week.”

“oops”

“oops…very good Chibby…oops goes with uh-oh”

“da da?”

“oops…”

I look up and clutched in that sweet chubby little hand of his is a poop freshly plucked from his diaper which was apparently full of “oops“.