Tuesday, February 24, 2015
TMI Tuesday: Poo Rainbow
Not long after our son arrived and they brought him back to our room in the maternity ward we were warned of all the things that we would be encountering when we changed his diaper. “Oh, the things you’ll see” as Dr. Seuss would say. However, words can’t really express the interesting moments of discovery when we peeled back the tabs and saw the carnage laid upon Pooville.
It all started with the tar pit. This is the kind of nasty stuff that they find dinosaurs in and what they use to patch highways. It’s like trying to clean up a pile of black superglue. I was half tempted to call the EPA when his diaper seemed as though it was attached with Velcro and the wipes seemed to whimper in the corner of the bassinet.
Slowly but surely these emanations transformed into a consistency that we are all familiar with. “Pardon me, do you have any Grey Poopon?” Why yes, yes I do. That’s right, I was never a big fan of mustard to begin with but I am certainly avoiding it now that I have seen the “seedy Dejon” that our son had been producing. And that is exactly how the doctors and nurses describe the consistency… it is even found in the little take home poo packet.
Seeing all this is one thing but seeing it in action is another. Last weekend we found ourselves playing the part of Lepookans doing our best to avoid being caught at the end of the poo rainbow. Ever since we found out and told people that we were having a boy they all warned us to block the winkie but no one bothered to inform us of the other fountain that poses a threat to new parents.
We were nearly done changing his diaper and about to pull up his new Pampers when all of the sudden someone decided to squeeze the mustard bottle and my wife and I ducked for cover. Thankfully there weren’t any fans in the room that it could hit and really cause a mess. Safe to say we had a little extra laundry that had to be done that night and made be seriously consider putting up a splash guard at the end of the changing table.
However, even with the flurry of fierce feces, things have been going pretty smoothly and, most importantly, baby seems to be happy. He’s a bit of a gassy little baby but none of that matters when I pick him up and he smiles as he looks at me. Of course, there are those interesting times when he holds his hand out seemingly saying “Daddy, pull my finger!”