Why does my Wednesday think that it's Monday?

Yep, my Wednesday has a Monday complex. I stayed up well past 1:00 this morning reading (I'm halfway through the fourth Harry Potter book, for the first time), so when I awoke (and I'm being generous when I say "awoke") to Julie's calls for me at 7:30, I wasn't ready to get up yet. She didn't sound super happy to be awake herself, so I thought I'd bring her back into bed with me and we could snuggle for half an hour before getting up. I went into her room and smelled messy diaper. So I decided to change her before taking her back into my room. I picked her up (she gave me a big sweet hug) and carried her to the changing table. When I laid her down, I realized that she didn't have a diaper on, but that my nose had not misled me. She was poopy. I groaned (loudly), quickly cleaned her bottom and put a new diaper on, then put her on the floor. I grabbed the diaper out of the crib, put the wipes in it and threw in the diaper pail, then back to assess the situation. Luckily, it could have been a lot worse. There were a few smears on the sheet, but Donald Duck took the brunt of the mess. I decided it could all wait until after breakfast, because Julie wouldn't wait for cleanup to be done before she required breakfast. After breakfast, I pulled everything out of the crib, then called my mother-in-law for help with Donald Duck. I figured he was took big for the washing machine, but she said just to throw him in there after spot cleaning. So I did. Then I got a washcloth wet with hot water and Lysol, and cleaned the crib where there were smears. Problem over with.

Fast-forward through the morning (during which I still groaned at this new and unexpected -- and most unwelcome -- milestone in my daughter's life) to lunch time. I'm in the kitchen preparing Julie's lunch, when I come around the corner of the refrigerator to throw something in the trashcan. On the other side of the trashcan, sitting in the open doorway to the pantry, is Julie, with half a box of baking soda spilled all around her on the floor. I cried. So I put her in her high chair while I finished making lunch. Then I ate mine, then I got the camera, and finally the vacuum cleaner. I took pictures in the hope that maybe later I'll laugh about it. (And I have no doubt that I will. Later.)But here's the bigger problem: things happen in threes, right? So...poopy diaper, baking soda, what's next? She'll probably yank on the cat's tail while I'm not paying attention and get her dues from him. Oh yes, we're babysitting a cat for a month. Julie likes to pull his ears and tail.

It's a good thing she's so darn stinkin' cute the rest of the time.