Holy Crap

This morning I got up before the rest of the house, started the coffee, laid out the wee-one's breakfast and settled in to read a few pages.

I heard chirping from the nursery and went in to get the little one up around 6:45. When I opened the door, a stench slapped me in the face. My first thought was, "One of the dang dogs killed a squirrel and hid it in here . . ." I realized that was crazy.

Then I saw the little cherub - smiling at me over the railing of the crib. I saw that the bedding beneath her was pretty wet so that meant either mommy forgot to put her in a nighty-dighty when she went to bed or little Annie just peed her way through it. I resolved to pick her up and head straight to the changing table without the usual morning cuddle session.

When I picked the punkin' up, I saw brown stains on the sheets. I instantly thought, "Oh no - something is wrong with her pee". I put my nose near her jammies and was met with an acred stench. "Oh no, here we go", I thought.

Annie was her normal giggly self so that was some reassurance. I laid her on the changing table and started to undress her from her (normally) brown foot pajamas. Once I got her unzipped, I thought, "This is not a job for one person". I woke up my wife and said, "I am going to need your help in here".

The wife came in and said "Oh boy". The little one was covered in #2 - and it wasn't pretty. The wife took hold of the wee-one's hands to keep them out of - well, everything. I unlatched the diaper and was met with a horror. Now granted, it was nothing unnatural other than I have never seen anything like it.

This would be a good time to let you know a secret of mine - I am a sympathetic puker. The sight and/or smell makes me follow suit.

There in the heated, fetid room, staring at - yipes! - I involuntarily gagged. I clasped a poo-stained hand to my mouth to keep from puking on the poo-stained child (I figured that would not help matters), excused myself and proceeded to drive the white porcelain bus for the next few minutes - leaving my wife stranded.

All I could think of was, "Puke faster! You have to get back in there! The wife needs you!" Sort of like when they ask wounded soldiers if they have any questions and they always reply, "Yeah, when can I go back to the front lines?"

I finished by business, got myself together and headed back in. The wife had done a miraculous job. The war was over and it was a mop-up operation now. I got the bath water running, the wife dunked the child and I started the laundry.

I have never seen anything like it. Still, the images come unbidden to me and cause me to gag.

I have never thought of myself as one of these guys:



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WTij4txO8Uk

But I guess puke speaks louder than words.

I don't know how my wife did it.

And through it all, the wee one was smiling and giggling.