I'm new to this whole thing (both being a parent and being a member of a blog ring) so you'll forgive me if I get something wrong - feel free to point it out so that I can learn from my mistakes.
Being new to parenthood means that I don't have as many of these funny moments as everyone else does and perhaps my benchmark for what is funny will change in the coming months and years, but thats not to say that there haven't been any funny moments and yesterday comes to mind.
Picture the scene: my eldest Tommy is recovering from chickenpox. He is covered in scabs in varying states of healing and he is suffering from a serious case of momma attachment. Yesterday, his brother (my youngest) woke up covered in spots, seriously grumpy and desperate to be the center of my attention. The day was HARD - one of those days that test the limits of my medication and make me want to seriously re-think my new position in the world. My nerves had just reached the point where every sound feels like a dagger and even the most thoughtful suggestion or pitying look invoked a murderous thought.
The turning point for days like this is at 6pm when I can strip them off - bath, dress and feed them and then put them down in their cots (and by I, I of course mean my hubby as well). At around 5:50 last night, I had had enough and began stripping Nathan down but as I was standing waiting for the sink to fill up (yeh we're hippies, we bath them in the sink) I felt this warm dribble down my leg - the warm dribble of a baby having a wee onto my beautiful wooden floors and cheap patent leather shoes.
I guess it was seriously situational (it doesn't seem half as funny as it warranted at the time) but it was one of the moments where the balance can be tipped either way - fortunately for him I don't begrudge him his toilet humour, in fact I embrace it!