Yesh!

January 16, 2010 at 9:46 pm | Posted in Giggles | 2 Comments

I am a mom of small children. I stay home. I change diapers. And I am a pro. (Yes, you knew it was only a matter of time before I talked about poop … inevitable, sort of like the minivan in my future.) So, without further ado, here is my first poop post. I’m pretty excited.

Mayday, Mayday
The other night, my husband (who is, God bless him, primary kid-bather) took Lollipop and Giggles upstairs for their nightly bath. I heard the usual elephant-tromping, water-running, rubber-duck-throwing that usually ensues. Then I heard my husband’s distress signal. He needed a wingman. Quite capable of parenting solo, he could only have encountered one thing: stealth poop. Definition: the unexpected discovery of poop — usually in a diaper, but occasionally elsewhere — at an inopportune time.

Yes, stealth poop. In his haste to get in the tub and splash all the water out, Giggles had yanked down his diaper and inadvertently stepped in his poop. In the chaotic dash to the changing table, he then managed to smear it on both his hand and my husband’s hand.

Enter Wingman
I arrived upstairs, handed my husband a plastic bag for the 273 wipes he had used, and went to make sure Lollipop didn’t jump in the tub unattended. And I laughed. I tried to keep it in. OK, I didn’t really try. It was funny. It might, just might, have been the highlight of my day.

Why? Because I’m certain I’ve been in that predicament, too. All alone. During the day. With no wingman. And it wasn’t so much funny as traumatic, so I’ve blocked it out. Plus, now, 7,000 diapers later, I know the secret to stealth poop …

Ask. Never forget to ask. “Giggles, do you have poop in your diaper?” And if he does, he will grin at you, eyes wickedly a’twinkle, and answer, “Yesh!” Oh, yesh, indeed.

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2 Comments »

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  1. This made me laugh out loud… 273 wipes! Giggles was probably not disturbed at all.

  2. Aren’t poop posts always the best posts?! This is hilarious, and scary. I have not had to experience “stepped in” poop, but I am discovering the joy of “kicked in” poop. It is a daily occurrence and I don’t have the good fortune of a wingman, unless she does it at night (cross fingers).


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