This week’s guest blogger is Jamie, a stay at home wife and mother of two amazing kids. She has a love of great food and great stories. She is endlessly curious, sarcastic, clumsy, sensitive, slightly obsessive and unfiltered. You can find Jamie’s recipes and stories on her blog, Blowing Off Steam…and Other Cooking Adventures.
My five-year-old and I are sitting on the couch when I smell something funky.
I sniff him all over like a bloodhound. “Do I smell poo?”
He shrugs. “I dunno.”
“Seriously, you smell like poo! What happened?” I ask. “Did you . . . Why does your hand smell like poo? Why is there poopy on your hand?” My level of panic rises as I try to think about when he was in the bathroom and what he possibly could have touched between then and now.
I grab him and bring him into the bathroom while the germ-a-phobe and clean-freak in me fight for top spot.
“Don’t. Touch. Anything.”
I scrub his hands and perform a full body search, finding remnants of the offender on his sleeve and leg. I want to freak out, but I don’t want to cause any lasting psychological damage, at least not more than I already have. So I calmly ask, “Did you touch your poo?”
In my brain, this is happening: Please don’t say yes, please tell me this was an accident while you were trying to clean yourself or poo fell from the sky, anything, please.
“Um…yes.”
What? For the love of God, why?
Unbelievably, I hear myself say: “Did you just want to see what your poo looked like?” Oh no. Why did I say that? Now what did I do? What if he says yes?
“I wanted to see it up close so I picked it up.”
You picked it up? Like, out of the toilet? What were you thinking? Are you insane?
The thought of psychological damage overrides my horror. What comes out of my mouth is something I hope never to repeat again. Ever.
I say:
Study it? Who am I?
He says, “Nope, I’m good.”
Thank God we don’t have to have a science lesson about poo right now.
I am relieved and figure we can go on with our day, eat some cookies, and forget about what I like to call The Incident.
He adds, “I want to look at butts all day long.”
It’s OK. You are a professional now. You’ve got this. “Well, then,” I say, “you should become a proctologist so you can look at butts and get paid for it.”
Boom. Mother of the Year. Right here.
~~~
What have you done recently that disqualifies you from
Parent of the Year?
Or, what did you parents do that removed them from that list?
ROFL. my *best* day ever was finding poo around my sons mouth. Wish I’d thought of the proctologist line with that one.
I have a friend that went through that!! Believe it or not, the Dr. told her that as long as it was her daughter’s own and not animal poo then it was just fine. Mmmmm.
I have to be honest. My very first thought? Pinworms.
Please tell me you poured kerosene on his hands before the cookies. 🙂
Ah yes, the beloved pinworms. Kindergarten is coming soon so I am sure they will pay us a visit. Kerosene probably would have worked faster than lemon juice and soap! 🙂
Hahaa! That was a hilarious story. Glad things are good, and there is no more need for the poo study now. 🙂
Thank you. I am glad too!
Ha! Excellent! I have a pic of my daughter standing in our bathroom sink, grabbing her ankles and looking at her bum in the mirror. Studying it, I should say. She was about four, I think. Trust me, your son would probably *adore* the gift of a hand-mirror.
Ha! That picture will be awesome bribery material when she starts dating.
Hilarious post! I think I scared my little brother off of proctology when I asked him if a pair of jeans made my butt look big. He could have had a bright future.
Hey, it could have gone either way. How could you possibly have known? 😉
What a hilarious post. “I want to look at butts all day long” – that line got me. As an aside, maybe that’s what my husband should have done for a living. BOOM.
It’s never too late to start a new career!
1. Maybe he needs glasses to look at it from a distance? 🙂
2. Here’s a book about a child who’s going to be a poo-researcher: http://www.hdschellnack.de/uploads/Snuff.jpg (typical british humour, I love it)
3. And another one for children who are interested in poo (won a price for childrens literature in Germany) http://www.vetsch.com/haru/images/maulwurf.jpg 😀
A book about poo one a prize? That bandwagon is screaming my name!
Ack! I mean *won*. Running 6.24 miles on muddy trails melted my brain.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LVbtB5pABFk
Jamie, I’m laughing my ass off. What a great and funny post! I don’t know who cracked me up more, your comments or your son’s replies.
I’m with about100percent – the “I want to look at butts all day long” just slew me. Thank you so much for the laugh!
My parents removed themselves from the parents of the year list through a series of ill-fated attempts prove they trusted me, ranging from allowing me to listen to Iron Maiden and Black Sabbath in elementary school to giving me a black powder rifle with pounds of highly explosive powder when I was still dumb enough to try and blow up the sandbox.
Thanks Jamie
Classic music! At least you didn’t blow up the dog or the goldfish…wait…you didn’t, did you?!
Nope, but every cat in the neighborhood used our sandbox as a giant kitty litter. I’m fairly positive there is still some sand-crusted cat poo orbiting the earth as we speak (type). It was a successful attempt at idiocy. 😉
It’s a boy thing and then it becomes a man thing. Certain words and body parts or functions reduce all men to the level of a five year old. Boob. Fart. Poo. Try it. Just toss one out randomly at watch.
Boobs. Giggle.
Look on the bright side, at least he’ll be rich and eccentric!
I am just happy he has goals!
Exactly!
Re Mother of the Year, my Mom pretty much blew it for life when she told me, a third-grader, that my father the 20 year Navy man had once said to her, “I want you in the worst way, and the worst way I can think of is standing up in a hammock.”
Um… sounds dangerous?
All I can figure is it would be like trying to do the Wild Thing on your feet while being tied up in a floor-length string bag. What I can’t figure out is why Mom told me this when I was 10 years old. o.0
Hahaha! This is funny. HORRIFYING. But funny. Nice one with the Dr comment, that could’ve gone many more directions with much less prestige.
I swore I would never speak of this in public but once the initial trauma wore off it was too good to keep to myself.
That. Is. Fantastic.
🙂
Reason # 326 in glad my kids are almost grown.
Crap I am only up to reason #48.
Oh my god!!!!! I am still laughing! My little one is 5….praying to god he never needs to ‘study his poop’ LOL!!!!
I sincerely hope that for your sake he doesn’t!