"There's nothing but shite on the TV today..."

Literally.

Morgan decided today to move her nappy-investigation activities from the confines of her cot to the living room.
She was sitting eating her lunch, as I prepared mine. I came back through to the living room to witness... The horror.

Seriously, I had to SCRAPE shit off the TV screen!
And her seat. And her table. And the floor. And her.

Straight into the shower ( I might invest in a power-washer, such as one would use on an automobile. ) for a jet-wash then into the wash with all her clothes - And anything that had been nearby.
Half a bottle of Orange Cleanser and most of a bog-roll later, all was well.

The day went OK from then on - Few random FireFight phone calls, a bit of tidying up, some playing with Morgan, some reading of Dr Seuss.
I put her to bed around half seven. She sat and happily watched her Bedtime Video.
Usually, she nods off about 10 minutes into it. Tonight, she was still yelping and singing to herself 40 minutes in.
Then she started crying.

I figured she was thirsty - It's pretty hot still.
Went in with juice...




... And I've just finished cleaning her cot again, changing her bedclothes, jetwashing her.

Yup. Poop again.

She's now wearing a pair of trousers with a built-in "belt", tied as tight as seems comfy so she can't get them off.
I may resort to gaffa-taping her nappies onto her arse if this method fails.

Not amused with this state of affairs at all.