Being a father, I've noticed that every day brings with it myriad blessings and tender moments. If I could light them all and fling them skyward, then surely they would shame the stars.
But sometimes Lyla fires her bowel canons so violently that runny feces burps out the edges of her diaper. Diapers are absorbent, but they need time to process new matter. If new matter is introduced with speed and force, it spreads, searching for the path of least resistance. And you realize that those clothes, the changing table, the flannel blanket, your very hands, will never be truly clean again. In fact the house will always be just a bit dirtier, so you're tempted to abandon it altogether and start fresh.
It's her superpower, I've decided. And she doesn't unleash it often, only when she thinks Julie and I, the apparent evil villains, truly deserve it. But she operates on a moral plane independent of adult logic, doling out punishment seemingly willy-nilly. Vigilance is futile, as is resistance.
We call them shitsplosions. We are at their mercy.
3 comments:
OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
LOL!
I was changing my daughter's diaper when she was just a week or two old and she had an explosion that hit the wall in her nursery - it had to be a four foot shot!
We used to call them blowouts, which put a new spin on the term any time we heard it used elsewhere. "The football game turned into a blowout!" Or, "Hurry quick for our blowout sale!"
What can you do but try to find some way to laugh about it?
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