Anna and Troy’s Weblog

Wednesday August 12, 2009

Dear Emerson:

Today you are six months and 12 days old.

MORE POOP

In the past two days you have managed to defile two perfectly good work outfits with your explosive renegade poop storms.

Yesterday, after going into the studio for a couple of hours, I decided that I was going to make a quick stop at the health food store and then take you home for your afternoon nap. The day was calm. It was hot, but breezy. Nothing seemed amiss. We arrived at the health food store, and we chatted gaily as I unbuckled you from your car seat. I lifted you out of the car seat and situated you on my hip as I gathered my belongings. As I turned my body from the car, I suddenly noticed the enormous smear of POOP across the front of my pants and shirt. Gasp. I looked down at you in my arms, and you smiled up at me with a look of innocent nonchalance, as if you had already forgotten your trespass.

I didn’t know what to do. For a moment I was stunned into immobility. When I finally recovered, I fumbled around for some wipes. While doing so, I looked into your car seat to find a PUDDLE of poop. OH MY GOD.  I managed to get the POOP PUDDLE cleaned up with the wipes. Then, using a burp cloth, I fashioned a barrier between your poopy butt and the car seat, I buckled you in, and we high tailed it home. No health food store for us.

Then, today, ATTACK OF THE KILLER POOPS: PART DEUX! We were sitting at the kitchen table at lunchtime, me in a chair and you in the brand new high chair that Grandma and Grandpa bought for you. I was eating my toast and you were playing with your blocks, when suddenly I hear, “PPHHHHHTTTTT……pppttttt……” I look up from my book and you are smiling at me.

Unaware of the intensity of the impending storm, I quickly finish my toast and pull you out of your high chair to change your diaper. As I hoist you to my hip, the moisture hits my arm. Arrrgh! I look down, and there is already a big smear of poop on the front of my gray slacks, along with a SPLATTER of poop on the kitchen floor. Let me say that again, A SPLATTER OF POOP ON THE KITCHEN FLOOR! Fortunately this time we weren’t in a parking lot twenty minutes away from home. As such, I was able to take you immediately to the decontamination room and get you stripped down and cleaned up. Thank goodness for little favors.

It is my hope that this is NOT the start of a new daily ritual. I really don’t have enough outfits for that sort of regiment, and I definitely don’t have time to do the necessary laundry.

I love you Poop-Asaurus-Rex.

Love,

Mommy