Desitin Disaster

It started out innocently enough.

“Mommy, my leg itches. Can I put some medicine on it?”

Thinking a small dab of hydrocortisone would be used on a recurring patch of eczema, I answered, “Sure.” I was proud that my little one, who is usually so dependent on me for every little thing, was going to attempt something so big girl on her own. She went into her room and closed her door. “Cute,” I thought, “She wants some privacy.”

After about five minutes she still hadn’t emerged from her room. My suspicion was aroused. “Maybe I should peek in and make sure it’s going okay.” Tap, tap, tap quietly on the door.

The familiar fragrance hit me in the face as soon as I cracked the door. No, it couldn’t possibly be…

All over her.
On her clothes.
On her shoes.
Under her fingernails.
You would have been proud. I didn’t yell. I didn’t cry. Though my knees were a little weak, I didn’t pass out from biting my tongue so hard. Instead, I calmly grabbed my camera, knowing that one day we would look back at this and laugh. Not today. But one day.
All in all, it wasn’t anything that two baths, two loads of laundry in hot water, and a discussion of why we never, ever touch anything in the diaper changing basket again wouldn’t fix.
And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a tub to scrub.


  1. At least she's cute! 🙂

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