A couple months ago while my husband and I were making dinner, my toddler walked up to me and held one hand up for me to see, fingers spread out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Hey, sweetie.” I could see something dark on her fingers, but I wasn’t close enough to see what it was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I stepped closer. “Oh no.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“What?” Ty asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I turned and ran in the opposite<\/strong> direction towards the closet where we keep the diapers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And in my rush, I missed seeing something in my path. My feet got tangled up, and I hit the floor, just barely catching myself with my hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I looked back to see what tripped me up. My preschooler’s shoes, left right in the middle of the hallway.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Bailey!” I yelled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I stood up and grabbed a diaper, then scooped up my toddler like a sack of potatoes and headed towards the living room floor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Bailey!” Louder<\/strong> this time. She must have been upstairs in the kids’ playroom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n As I bent down to start the diaper change, my knee throbbed from the fall. “Bailey!” Even louder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Adrenaline coursed through my veins because of the poop-mergency. Because of the fall. Because I was being ignored.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bonus:<\/strong> As a bonus for joining my weekly newsletter, get a free cheat sheet<\/a> of 75 positive things to say to your child that will make them feel loved.<\/p>\n\n\n