I saw it first. 

Nutmeg brown and pear-shaped, the droplet rested menacingly on the canvas of my six-month-old's leg. We were on our way to the trailhead for the second time—we’ll come back to that—and there RTG and I sat, he warmed by the chaos erupting in his diaper, and me heated by the fact that I knew I hadn't brought the wipes.