This happened to me last year, and I intended to recount the story for a Christmas Day blog entry, but then I realized that if I’m actually blogging on Christmas Day, then there’s something seriously wrong with me – and you, if you’re wasting time on Christmas reading blogs.
So I thought I’d post it early enough for you to enjoy it. It’s the best story about Christmas and crap that I’ve ever heard.
I wrote up a version of this story when it happened, but my sister’s vesrion that she posted over at her group blog, mormonmommywars.com, is much better. So I reprint it here without permission. (I’ll take it down if she threatens to sue.)
H wanted to post this, but her computer’s sick, and mine’s not, so I get to do it! HA HA HA HA HA HA I am excited, because it really is a great story. True, as well, which is the best kind of story. Did not happen to me, but it did happen to my brother.
First, we got to create….da MOOOD. It was Christmas night, the presents have been opened, the fire died down, and the children (all 5 of them) sufficiently died down from their sugar highs to be asleep. Parents zonked out after an exausting, fulfilling Christmas.
Around 2 a.m., the youngest one, an 18 month old of the male persuasion, awakes crying. He had a poopy diaper, and not just any old poopy diaper. One of those blowouts, go up the back, disaster of a poopy diaper. Parents are like “wha? This kid has been sleeping through the night without a dirty diaper for over a YEAR. He NEVER does this.”
No use wondering, just clean him up, and try to get him back to sleep. Daddy cleaned him up, handed him over to Mom to get him back down, and took the diaper downstairs to get rid of the foul thing. Now, normally, in this situation, he would just put the diaper in the garage, to be removed to the outside later, when a trash bag is going out, but “for some reason”, he decided to go outside to deposit the diaper in the outside garbage can.
It was on fire.
It had burned entirely to the ground, and the fire was still going. It was beginning to melt the can next to it, the heat had cracked the window to the garage, and the sill was black from the smoke. He hurriedly runs in the house, grabs a coat and some boots, grabs a shovel from the garage, and shovels snow all over the fire, all the while thinking “My wife is going to be so mad that I’m not upstairs helping to get the baby back to sleep.”
When he did go back upstairs, he informed his wife that the disaster of a poopy diaper quite possibly saved their lives, and for sure saved their garage. He slept the remainder of the night downstairs by the garage, just to be sure.
The moral of the story is twofold:
1) The Lord will use anything, including your child’s bowels, to get your attention when necessary.
2) The Lord looks out for you, even when you’re stupid. Like when you put a bag full of hot ash into a receptacle clearly marked ”Do not put hot ash in can” on it.