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Nap time. The Littles have finally gone down and Ms. Heather is ready to do all the fun things she can while they sleep. Things like learn the harpsichord, develop a game of intergalactic domination never before seen on this scale, work on the properties of an atom bomb.

You know, basic killing time activities.

As I’m trolling around Wikipedia I hear this loud jet engine go off near me. I could hear it clear across the room without my hearing aids! 

I head over to The Littles and smell something I know will lead to a slight downgrade on my happiness scale. Poop. I check the littlest Little and sure enough, the smell is emanating from her. I get my supplies, open the diaper, and there, just in front of me, is fossil evidence of a baby shart.

Obviously it would be inappropriate of me to ask her if she sharted – with my luck that would be her first word and I don’t want to explain that to a parent. Once she’s all cleaned up I put her back in her crib.

As I’m walking away I hear it again. The Little must hate me today…

Witty- shart

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