Just Another Shitty Post

Most women my age have children. As mothers, these women have stories to share with each other on the subject of poop. My coworker Anna posted yesterday about her own horror with fecal matter as a mother.

I was feeling a bit left out of the poopy party and then realized that I indeed have my own story to share as an Aunt. It just might be the reason my husband and I don’t have kids. So here it goes…

We were babysitting our niece and nephew for the evening. My darling, little niece was three months old at the time and my fiendish, little nephew was half way between 2 and 3 years old and half way between diapers and pullups. We had a dog around the same age as the nephew and they were best buddies. Where my nephew went, the dog went with tongue in pursuit of gooey things stuck to my nephew.

And so came the poop that evening. My nephew filled his diaper with something ghastly and was determined not to have it removed. The dog got interested in this game. My dear husband was occupied with my sweet, little niece. And so, I was left to wrestle the dirty off my nephew.

Yes, wrestle is the correct word. I wish it wasn’t, but wrestle we did while on the new comforter in the bedroom. I thought I was smart. I put down a towel and shut the door. Not quite smart enough. My nephew managed to wriggle away after the diaper was removed with the process not yet completed. And the dog managed to wriggle into the bedroom. Neither was ready for what happened next. Let’s just say the nephew, dog, comforter and myself required a bath.

My fiendish, little nephew is now a handsome, well-mannered young man and has absolutely no recall of this rather awful event. I’m waiting for the right time and place to discuss the disgusting details. Perhaps his future, true love will want to know all about him and what he was like when he was a cute, little fiend.