Monday, June 13, 2011

The Case of the Missing Twosie

Okay, I know I already posted today, but I couldn't let this opportunity slip by.  You know what's been missing on this blog?  A post about poop.  Well, I found my inspiration.

To give you fair warning, this post may be a little graphic for you squeamish ones out there.  (Mom, you're gonna love it.  And don't worry, I'll email you the pictures so you can put them in your book.)  So if you're newly pregnant (and therefore enjoying the nausea of the first trimester) or just a wimp about bodily functions, just wander on to your next internet destination.  Don't say you haven't been warned.  In fact, I'll even put in a bonus picture right here so that it's the image that comes up on your reader or dashboard or whatever:
Puppy bonus!
Okay, on to the Excrement Escapades!

So earlier today I changed Lila's diaper and forgot to empty into the toilet (cuz that's whatcha gotta do with cloth diapers - one of the perks).  As I was getting LJ ready for bed, I noticed the diaper was still sitting on the dresser so I picked it up and walked to the bathroom.  However, when I opened up the diaper to dump the poop into the toilet it was mysteriously empty.
uh-oh. MIA poopie!
 I asked Eric if he had taken care of it for me.  When he said no, I began to worry.  Somewhere there was a large turd loose in our house just waiting for a curious toddler to come across it and...well let's not allow our imaginations to go there!

I made several sweeps of my path from Lila's room to the bathroom and couldn't find it.  I started wondering if perhaps I had emptied the diaper and forgotten about it, but I knew I wouldn't have put it back on the dresser if that had been the case.  I looked again, I asked Eric again (same answer).  Then I just happened glance down and see this:
I know what you're thinking - why is it shaped so weird? and why is it orange?  The shape is what happens when a cute little bottom sits on it for a bit before Mommy finds smells the evidence.  The orange is because the kid loves sweet potatoes and what goes in must come out.
Gross.  I really have no idea how that even happened.  I'm always very cautious when transporting the loaded diapers to avoid just such a situation.  It's an orange-tinted mystery.

So upon discovery, the first thing I did was get a wipe and dump that thing, right?  Wrong.  Proving once again that I am my mother's daughter, the first thing I did was take a picture.  The second thing I did was dump it.  Wrong again.  Second thing was call Eric in to see my discovery.  Third thing was dump it.  I know you were beginning to worry it was still there, right?  Actually, third thing I did was have Eric take this picture:
Never mind my greasy work-out hair.  I had just gotten done Shredding it with Jillian. :)
I know you guys were just dying for another shot of my daughter's poop.  I'm here to meet your every expectation and hope.  So I guess fourth thing I did was flush that renegade number 2.  What is wrong with me?

As I was loading the pictures to my computer, I forced Eric to look at them again (he was not nearly as fascinated by the whole adventure as I was, apparently).

Me: Look at this!

Eric: Poop in a drawer, Honey.  Poop in a drawer.

Me: Yup.  And I'm gonna blog about it.


michelle said...

cannot describe how much i loved this! :) that is fantastic!

(and by the way my word verificaton is shidis...with the right accent it is very fitting for this post!) :D

casey elizabeth said...

Oh.I am laughing so hard right now! Here's to poop stories! Oh goodness! Poop in drawer!

Caley and Patrick said...

absolutely beautiful...I call in Patrick to check out Blake's impressive poops.... So I totally get your little BM escapade.

Jessica Blake said...

you are your mother's child. PERFECT for the inappropriate picture book!

Katy said...

You are so hilarious!! Gross, gross, gross! You never know what you might read on this blog!! LOL!

jordanne said...

This is way way yuckie. But I do love the puppy picture at the beginning. It makes me giggle. Out loud. To myself.