Ya think I want to write about Poop every other f*ckin day?
Before dawn this morning, Tito sauntered into our bedroom wearing his Spongebob jammies. I noticed that it looked like Spongebob had been stabbed. There was what aapeared to be dried brown blood smeared all over Tito's jammie shirt. There was nothing on his hands or anywhere else on him, and it didn't smell funny or anything, but there wasn't enough on it to really know. I couldn't figure out what it was.
EXHIBIT A:
EXHIBIT B:
I kept asking him what happened, and he kept saying in a typical four-year-old singsong voice, "I dunno..." so I thought maybe he got a bloody nose in the middle of the night and he wiped it on his sleeves. Or maybe he at a Tofutti Cutie without my permission. Or maybe he threw up a little. I had no idea. I made him take the shirt off, and I put another one on him and went back to bed.
After the sun came up, Tito called from the bathroom for someone to wipe him. I asked R to do it and I'd go get the kids' clothes and get them dressed. There, I noticed that Tito's bed had an unusual stain on it. I called him in to the room and asked him if it was what I was starting to think it was. Yes, it was indeed POOP.
EXHIBIT C:
I am completely BAFFLED. I can't understand how he could have poop in his bed, on his pajama shirt and nowhere else. I've tried to come up with plausible scenarios that might explain this bizarre phenomenon, and I just can't. It's impossible. There wasn't poop in his underpants or on his hands or legs or anywhere it might logically appear if he did, in fact, poop his pants and decide to paint with it. It makes no sense whatsoever.
It is The Mystery Poop.
As much as I wish it wasn't, Poop is, unfortunately, a recurring theme on my blog... and in my life. Believe me, I don't like it any more than you do.
I write about Poop more often than I write about knitting. How pathetic is that? They're gonna kick me out of the Midwest Knitters blogring.
Maybe I should start a blogring for goofy moms like me who deal with Poop every day. I could call it Shit Disturbers!
Nah, never mind... that's got DISASTER written all over it.
In brown.
15 comments:
This harkens back to when one of my sisters was young and about maybe 2 or 3. She had a turdlet drop out of her pants, attach itself to her shoe just enough where you could tell she was dragging it around. Thing is we couldn't catch her and get her to stand still enough for us to wipe it up. In the chase, the turd managed to get dislodged from her shoe and where it went, we'll never know.
Point to this lame story? I completely buy the Mystery Poop theory. Poop works in ways we'll never fully understand.
Maybe there's a secret underground sect of scientists studying this theory but too afraid to speak of such taboo topics.
So see, you're helping with these posts bring more awareness to the Poop Plight.
You can call it, What can brown do for you?
Hooray for Poop!
Perhaps he got up and pooped during the night and failed to wipe sufficiently. Perhaps the Mystery Poop made a getaway and is halfway to the Virgin Islands with a couple of dried boogers.
Perhaps it is currently dessicating somewhere in a dark corner waiting to be discovered by archaeologists. Mummified Poop!
All Hail the Mighty Power of Poop!
Lol, Dan.
Ours was the pee thing. He'd get his hands in his diaper at night and get that sucker either pointing north or over the top of the diaper completely or sometimes out the leg of his diape. Yes, the incredible stretching member. Then later in the night he'd pee all over himself and wake up screaming. Joy. A onsie over top of his jammie pants put a stop to that!
I pulling for ya that it was a Tofutie Cutie but damn, foiled again. I've said it before, you aren't the only one with toileting issues. My girlfriend's little guy used to finger paint with his poo, smear it all over toys and all. YUCK!! Soon it will be in the past, soon.
Well pooh happens or rather s$%@ happens...particularly when you have children under five it seems to rear it's smelly head in ways one can not even imagine.
Maybe it was a wet toot that ended up outside the jammies via a middle of the night butt scratch.....that is my pooh detective verdict on that one LOL
Great blog btw!!
Kids are weird like that. There's mystery pee, mystery poop, mystery blood when they hit their teens (my nose used to bleed at night, all the time). It never stops.
I hope Spongebob is OK!
I'm not EVEN going there.
This is what I mean when I say "I don't know how they do it". I can't stand a mystery and the kiddos are capable of whipping up all sorts of intrigue like this.
It was many years that I would silently vow to myself that I would actually get through one coffee and not talk about my kid's poop before it actually happened. Eventually, your kids' elimination will become something you don't need to think about. I promise. Really.
Your blog entry SHOULD go down as one of the "Classics". While I have no children and have not had to deal with shit except from dogs and exes, I cracked a rib at your meanderings.
I may even paste and save this entry. It's like reading Erma Bombeck on Xanax with a couple of vodka tonics.
Brilliant writing indeed!
Wow. A true Crap Caper. A Merde Mystery. A Question of Caca. An Excrement Enigma.
Max used to wet the back of his clothes when he wore a nappy. Nowhere else, just the back. Like he aimed Little Max over his shoulder and fired away. Could never figure that one out.
Mystery Poos, esp. the little pebbly kind, are one of the great question marks of modern civilisation. Don't feel bad if you don't understand how they operate outside the laws of reality. I still haven't come to terms with it either.
All the same, I'd check his shoes before you put his feet in...
Uh. Thanks for sharing your family pictures? :P
It's only when you begin talking about poop amd vomit at Happy Hour that it becomes a real problem. Until then I think you are totally normal...which I suppose given the source should be taken with a grain of salt.
HA, Crap Caper!!! :-) A true classic, SiressYorkie!! This is one of those bits of language that should immediately be enshrined in the most learned lexicons of the land and be sublimated directly to our collective unconscious. Gee, I wish I knew what sublimated actually meant! hehe
Did you check under the bed? (I have toddlers, too!) Waaaay back in the corner? (Trust me, hide-a-poo is no more fun than Mystery Poo.)
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