While I was changing Cole's diaper, I distracted him with a little yellow toy spoon. He HATES to sit still for a diaper change and I would do nearly anything to make him stop squirming, particularly if the diaper contains a poop. So here I was, trying to hastily clean him up whilst entertaining an increasingly impatient little boy with a yellow spoon and he suddenly discovered that it was a lot of fun to drop the yellow spoon into the neck of my shirt, where it would disappear into my cleavage, then to try to retrieve it. He began chuckling incessantly at this game. I obliged because it meant some peace while I went about my diaperly duties. At one point, I grew weary of him fishing around in my shirt for the yellow spoon, so I found it useful to wedge the handle of the spoon securely between my breasts with the spoon protruding just above the neck hole of my shirt where he could see it. This really did the trick. I highly recommend it.
A few hours later, Cole went to bed. I went to the grocery store to buy shampoo and I went out for coffee with a friend (see last blog). We had a nice chat for about an hour and then I came home, talked with Mark for a few minutes and headed upstairs to bed. I began to undress. Leaving my T-shirt on (for some reason), I skillfully removed my bra through one of the arm holes (I forget where I acquired this talent and I don't know why I felt compelled to use it at this time) and just as I was triumphantly pulling the bra free of my arm hole, something whipped across the room and hit the bedside table and came to rest on the floor next to my bed.
A yellow spoon.