All Hail the Dustbuster

It's 3:15 pm on Thursday and I hear Tristan calling me, the way he does when he wakes up from his nap. It's been quiet upstairs so I know he's been sleeping. I mean, what else could he be doing for that long and be that quiet? I open the door to his room and am hit by the pungent smell of fresh baby bottoms. I flip on the light and see that Tristan is not in his crib. As I turn to look on top of the changing table, Tristan holds his arms out to me and says, "TADA!". I wish the pictures showed the light coating of all of the baby powder on everything in the room. I wish they showed you the smell. I wish they showed you how I just went completely numb and said, "Don't move", as I walked to our room to get the camera, the call to poison control, or the 45 minutes it took to clean it all up. But mostly I wish they showed you how pleased Tristan was for the hour that he was partying in his room instead of napping. All hail the dustbuster. And the Swiffer wet jet, the vacuum and half a container of baby wipes.