Warning: this post may be inapoopriate for some. It may even be unpoopular. The only thing worse than waxing poetic about defecation, is all the puns discharged in this post.
I always thought the phrase “The writing is on the wall” had a deeper purpose and meaning. No today, it was quite literal and with poo. The literal $h&7 hit the fan. Code brown. We have a pootastrophe. The droppings are all around us. Calling all disinfectants on deck. Stay behind “Good for the Earth” stuff. You are no match for this malodor.
Life is excramentally harder with a toddler. It is infecesable to imagine life before kids. Now, you have to act very manure. Sure, you have similar conversations of the 4 Cs when ring shopping: clarity, quality, color and carat. You have now transitioned into the poop 4cs: quantity, consistency, color, and wait, is that a carrot?
Number two: Date night is fraught with concern over your child’s daily bowel movements. Your attention to them in inboweluntary.
Oh, a there will be a floater in your future, and like any good parent, you will grab it by your bare hand to remove from proximity of your poop-factory angel. Is it safe to bleach bare hands?
If you have had children for more than two seconds, you have called the doctor or nurse about this fecal matter. You sit on your stool and worry about all the horrible things that could possible go wrong. You don’t want to waste money on unnecessary visits, but you monetary expulsion is no matter when your child has a weird BM.
Is all this crap worth it?
Without a doubt.
For those dealing with , dung or old, I salute you. Your attitootude prevails over all the s*itutions that come at you on a daily basis. Stay strong like a good poo pourri.
Someday, if you get to be old and gray, the poop being cleaned maybe your own. Until then, soldier on against stench and the gagging sensation. Fertilize your little angels with love and affection. May the odor be ever in your favor.