Major Blow Out: Away

The hubbie had my sides hurting the other day after reading my blogs. His comment went something along the lines of:

"The bogey one was funny...", Which implied to me that the poopy one was not. So I probed a bit to get some clarification, to which he responded (somewhat defensively) "Well it's hard to find poo funny, when it's so disgusting!"

Poo - not funny?! What planet does he come from? It's bloody hilarious! Maybe we were light on entertainment growing up, but my siblings and I knew of nothing better, than a bit of base 'toilet humour', to have each other in stitches.

So here's the 'Away' poop story that you (may or may not) have been awaiting with bated breath...

We had all just rushed inside the swimming baths -and out of the rain - last weekend, after arriving late to a much anticipated birthday party. Baby was hanging out on my hip smiling shyly and laying his head on my shoulder in response to all the attention he was starting to receive. That's when I got the first potent whiff.

Folks started leaning in for baby snogs and nuzzles, exposing themselves to the invisible stench smog surrounding me and my baby. He was obviously going to keep on attracting attention, so I announced that my baby was 'ripe', just to eradicate any suspicion that it might be pregnant Mom dropping bombs. This earned a few titters (See? Toilet humour!), and I was good naturedly pointed in the direction of the ladies.

Happy to find we had the toilets to ourselves, I laid baby down on the changing table with a spare diaper for a pillow, and started to peel off his pants.

I couldn't believe it! The little rotter had more poop spooging from the insides of his diaper than I'd ever come across in his lifetime. Thank goodness I didn't whip them off quick smart like the last time! At least the wall wasn't a casualty - just the changing table (which I'd not covered, of course), and his pants, T-shirt and socks, which were all complete write-offs.

These impossible situations require a much quicker processing time, than allotted. And while my panic stricken mind is stuck on the prospect of yelling for help, the little stinker is already sitting up and groping his poo covered nether regions.

Although I revere the magnificence of Baby Wipes, they didn't stand a chance against the sheer mass of crud that baby was now sitting in. I peeled away his diaper which was almost lost beneath the poo pile, and removed the rest of his attire leaving a naked bambino in dire need of a bath..

So, after scanning my resources, I sat his caked booty on the side of the closest sink with his feet dangling in, and blasted tepid water into the bowl. Baby couldn't believe his luck - and neither could I - when I shifted his bottom into the bowl, and he fit perfectly snug (like a little Buddha), with water shooting onto his lap. He screamed in sheer delight the whole time, batting at the running water and laughing at himself in the mirrored wall. His booty, acting as a great plug, allowed the sink to fill up to waist height. And for all our troubles, we enjoyed the best bath time!

His already soiled clothes became wash rags, which I used to clean up the mess, and in no time at all, I had a rosy cheeked , squeaky clean, fresh smelling babe, clad only in a diaper, toddling ahead of me into the party room. Save for a plastic bag full of wash rags, no evidence remained of the poop plight Momma had just been through. Daddy glanced over, inquiringly at my extended absence. But then his eyes locked on naked baby and my baggy, and I could see amusement, followed by a sneaky relief that he hadn't been the one to win the poopy prize.

No matter! He'll get his. I'm just relieved that our little lad offloaded the goods before we were all in the swimming pool. A turd of that magnitude would have closed the pool down for sure!