This is a sponsored post.
That seemed like a pretty good deal in my book. I knew just the PlayDoh she was talking about too: a package of three round containers with cheery-colored red, blue and yellow tops.
So I didn't cry when the nurse poked me with the needle. Not even a wince!
She put a Band-Aid over the pinprick, and Mom and I left the doctor's office, got in the car . . .
and DROVE HOME.
Not to the hardware store where the PlayDoh was. No, we drove HOME.
We were disciplined enough children that I didn't whine and complain that she didn't buy my the PlayDoh. In fact, I didn't say anything. But I was also incredulous. I hadn't cried, and she'd promised and . . . and . . . no PlayDoh!
About 25 years later, I recounted the story to my mom. (What do you mean I don't let things go? I can totally forget if I want!)
And you know what? Not long after, I got a package of PlayDoh from her -- three round containers with cheery lids.
Turns out, after I'd gotten my shots, she was so focused on getting home to make supper, do the laundry, unpack the groceries and help with homework that PlayDoh wasn't the top thing on her mind. It wasn't that she went back on her promise. She just forgot.
In fact, all those years later, she actually made good on that promise. Because that's what moms do.
I've made a #motherspromise to my little girl too, expect mine doesn't deal with foul-smelly moldable clay.
My promise is to teach my little girl the value of words. Maybe it's because I'm a writer and editor. But I think it's more the case that I'm her mom and part of my job is to teach her how important words are.
I promise my little G that I'll teach her that words mean things, that as she grows we will talk together, pray together, read together, learn together, memorize together, write together.
I promise her that when I say something I mean it and that I expect the same from her.
I promise her that we'll learn together, even when she's a teenager or a mother herself, that we're only as good as our word.
I promise that I'll remind her that we speak the truth in love, regardless of the consequences.
We're already having those conversations now, even if she's too busy spitting up and filling her diaper to notice. We have them when she's in her little swing in the kitchen and I'm reading recipes outloud to her.
We have them when she's laying on her playmat while I read her The Big Red Barn.
We have them when I'm changing her diaper in the middle of the day or right before she goes to sleep at night.
And we'll continue to have those conversations in our home, around the supper table, on the piano bench, while we take a walk on our country road, and after our nighttime prayers.
My #motherspromise to my little G - that we mean what we say when we say it - holds true for this too: Pampers Premium diapers (available at Walmart) really do take care of my little G's bum, wicking away moisture, whether she's sleeping through the night or taking a nap in the middle of the day.
Because have you ever seen anything as cute as a squishy diaper bottom?!
I'm a first-time mom. I didn't know diapers. I didn't even know diapers could come with these uber-cool wetness indicators on the front, but these things are genius!
But I do know this: Compared to other diapers we've tried, these don't leave her wet . . . or smelling wet when she wakes up from a nap either.
After using them for a few days, it's clear that Pampers Premium is a high quality diaper. Because after changing roughly a gabillion of them over the last couple of months, I'm a ding dang diaper aficionado these days.
(And really, it's just as easy to grab a box of Premium diapers when you're dashing through Walmart because you only have 20 minutes until the baby will be ready to eat again as it is to buy a different brand of diaper, amIright?)
Couple that with the fact that she's her mother's daughter -- with skin that's so sensitive you can basically look in her direction and she'll break out in hives -- and it's worth it to find a diaper that it easy on her sweet baby skin, hypoallergenic and doesn't leave her legs red or irritated.
Plus, they let her little bottom breathe, which leaves her more than willing to give me a big, happy smile during diaper changes.
Then again, it could also be gas.
Or her cheery mobile.
Or maybe she's hoping that if she smiles, I'll go away.
Jury's still out on this one.
And some day, when my little G is a mama herself, I'll listen to stories about her baby and how she's changing diapers bleary-eyed in the middle of the night. I'll remind her that Pampers kept her bottom nice and dry, that she slept like a champ, and that there was nothing sweeter than seeing her round face as she woke up in the morning, smiling and cooing.
That's my #motherspromise to my little G: that words mean things, that Play Doh is actually quite over-rated, that baby-skin-friendly Pampers Premium dipes are worth it, and that when I tell her I love her -- and that I love being her mama -- I mean it.
Although this post is sponsored, all opinions are my own. Just like I promise my daughter, I mean what I say when I say it, and these diapers really do leave her skin soft and her bottom dry!