The Poop Story

Okay, well as I expected, not only does Lisa not still have the email, she doesn't even remember the story. Time to jog some memories....

We had Brett's Pack 'N Play (wouldn't it be cool if we'd gotten that at Pick 'N Save? No? Mmkay.) set up in the living room, next to the TV -- no doubt so I wouldn't miss anything on TV whilst changing diapers. One afternoon, I sensed it was time for a fresh diaper, so I plopped the boy down on his back, head toward the kitchen, feet toward the TV. Upon removing what I assumed was a soiled diaper, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that it was not soiled at all, but that in fact my son simply must have had "a case of the toots." No matter; since I was half-done already, it would be a waste of energy not to just finish changing him.

I lifted my progeny's feet to the ceiling to pull out diaper A and replace it with diaper B.

There was then a sound the likes of which I had not heard before nor (thankfully) since. It was sort of like the sound you would make if someone had shoved some fruit in your mouth and some "chips" up your nose (a la Otto in A Fish Called Wanda) and then punched you in the stomach. Except it came from the stomachal area of the boy lying in front of me with his legs in the air. The next moment, a jet of poop shot out of Brett's behind, arcing across the room like a rainbow the end of which you'd never want to find, and splattered onto the TV and the front of our entertainment center. I couldn't conceive of the power that forced the stream that emanated from his rear end. I couldn't decide whether to be disgusted or proud.

I settled on mildly annoyed as I cleaned up.

As the deed was going down, of course, he had a wicked little smile on his face. A shit-eating grin, if you will.