Have you ever had an odd memory come to you out of the blue? I am not sure what Ruanita and I were talking about yesterday, but suddenly, she asked, "Hey, do you remember that Christmas Eve when Lucas was so sick?" Immediately, the memory came flooding back. It was the Christmas before Lucas turned two years old in January. He had been sick for an entire week with severe diarrhea. We changed poopy diaper after poopy diaper after disgustingly poopy diaper. We had been struggling all week to decide who would stay home with him each and every day, as he could not go to daycare with diarrhea. Finally on Christmas Eve, as we were changing the umpteenth poopy diaper, we found solid poop. We jumped up and down, dancing around the room chanting, "Hard poop! Hard poop!" The absolute joy was utterly palpable. I believe I was more excited on that day that I had been in years and years. It was better than any birthday. Better than New Year's Eve. Better than Christmas, even. It was our very own Christmas miracle.

It's amazing how the things that thrill you...the things that bring you gratification and downright glee...change so radically once you become a parent. I have yet to decide if that is a good thing or a bad thing. It feels like it's a good thing, but really...can getting ecstatic about poop really be considered a positive turn of events?