I spent a whole 10 minutes yesterday looking my 1 1/2 liter bottle of Deer Park that I had just opened and taken a few sips of. Never found it. Eventually I gave up and cracked open another.
This morning I awakened to E's gurgles and gripes on the monitor. My new policy is to wait to go get him until he actually cries like someone is pulling all his eyebrow hairs out one by one. He was fussing away but not very loud and not very committed. I let him go for about 15 minutes and then I went in to get him. There he was clutching my OPENED and now MOSTLY EMPTY water bottle. Thanks to the waterproof mattress pad, he was lying in about an 1/8 inch of water, completely soaked from head to toe and smelling slightly off.
I carried him into the bathroom and showed him to D as he was taking his shower.
K: Look at the baby.
D: He's cute.
K: Look at his outfit.
D: I know. I put it on him.
K: (frustration mounting EXPONENTIALLY) FEEL his outfit.
D: He's wet?
K: Didn't you happen to notice the huge ass water bottle in the crib when you put him in last night?
D: Uh, no.
Once again I have divine intervention to thank--this time for my child who didn't drown in the pool of water known as his crib.
Swim on, Toofus.