The mysteries of life.
What happens to shows scheduled at 2:00 am on daylight savings nights. Do they repeat on fall back? Why even list a 2:00 am show on spring forward?
Why does someone choose to be a viola player? Violin is the default orchestra instrument, bass is the manliest, and cello is the coolest. So why choose viola? You have to spend the rest of your life explaining how it’s not a violin. They stick you behind the cellos on stage so no one sees you. I don’t get it. (Sorry honey, but it’s true!)
How can cute, adorable little girls take this pure white formula (or milk) and generate so much disgusting (and definitely not white) poop in one day?
This of course is payback for all the times I made Pooh jokes, or giggled at Pooh branded items. The pooh bouncer. The pooh blanket. The five year old boy inside of me now quickly cedes to the responsible adult when faced with a poopy diaper. My biggest relief is that they are no longer the black sludge that occurred that first day of life.
Some sentences are understood in households that other people might not get without context. “When did he go out?” is automatically translated to “Do I need to take the dog out potty before we go”, “Hold on, I need to see which one they chose” translates to “I’ve watched the first twenty minutes of House Hunters and I’ll kill you if I don’t get see which house they chose, especially if they chose that house that’s over their budget, and has eight bedrooms for their one child!”. Now we have “It’s your turn”, which means “I’ve changed the last poopy diaper, you best do this one.”
Now we still are waffling back and forth on the diaper issue. You know, save the planet or save the effort of cleaning cloth diapers. So far, Earth is losing to our precious time. Huggies is the current brand of choice. The disposal process is as easy as remove the diaper, use the tabs to ball up the diaper, and dispose in the Diaper Genie. Somehow I always mess this up with a poopy diaper. One tab will get stuck inside and I’ll have to try to ball it up with the free tab.
Then, there’s the blowout. Every parent seems to have their blowout story. It was up to her armpits, we were at McDonalds and it got all over both of us, etc. We don’t have our blowout story yet, which scares me a little. Sure we’ve have to change many an outfit that got a little soiled, but not anything tragic. Stay tuned.
Our girl is consistent. You can set your watch to it. About every 16 hours, to be precise. (Note to our daughter who may be reading this years in the future and is now mortified that I published her pooping schedule on the internet: I’m sorry).
We used to discuss movies, theology, politics and life. Now we talk about the frequency, color and consistency.
Hmm, I didn’t know I had so many thoughts on poop. Tune in next week for my next riveting blog post on socks.