The first sign that something was amiss was Calista’s funny noises as she approached our bedroom. Her little whimpers sounded more like a cry for attention than pain. David went to investigate and discovered this.

Calista, 2yo, May 2010
Really, it was a good thing that she wasn't wearing clothes to start off with!

Calista is a very good little actress, and you can see this in the expression on her face. She looks like she’s been imposed upon, but I’m certain that she delighted in getting as dirty as she did.

After seeing Cali’s state, I went out to investigate what the other two girls were doing.

Brioni, 3yo, May 2010
The girls were carefully pouring water onto the ash from our little fire and mixing it with grass cuttings into a wonderful paste.

Aisha, 5yo, + Brioni, 3yo, May 2010
Aisha was the main instigator in creating the muck, but she also managed to stay the cleanest!

Of course, such free play in the dirt actually leads to greater health and happiness later in life, so I didn’t put a stop to the girls’ game! The weather is just perfect for games outside — not too hot and not yet cold, and if the girls are outside, the house stays a bit tidier.

Later in the afternoon, when I went to retrieve Delaney from her cot, I discovered that Calista had removed Dell’s nappy sometime during rest-time. Dell and Cali have been sharing a room for about a week, and apart from a couple of instances when I’ve discovered Calista sitting in the Dell’s cot with her, the transition to sharing a room has gone well.

Not so good is the fact that I had to deal with a pooey, naked baby who wanted a feed just as a visitor arrived at the door! David kindly let our visitor in and then put the cot linen in the washing machine for me. Later this afternoon I discovered that the discarded, [clean] nappy also went into the washing machine.

Have you ever washed a disposable nappy? Hmmm, thought not. Not something to try at home.

I’m not sure how long it will take before I’ve removed all the moisture-absorbing crystals from the washing machine, as well as all the white fluffy bits out of the black cot linen. Aargh! (David says he’ll pressure-wash the blankets for me — I’m wondering if the washing machine will ever be normal again.)

Without these little incidents, my day would have been so normal so as to be boring. And boring is bad. I must remember that!