This post may have a limited audience. As in, only those people who are familiar with Homestar Runner and his friends.
Anyway, I have four words for you.
CLOTH DIAPERS, SOLIDS POOP.
Um, yeah. Gross, gamechanger, gross, and gross again. I’m not going to quit using cloth diapers, but before changing Ana’s diaper I have considered suiting up in one of the full body Tyvek suits we have left over from IVF embryo transfer. Because “shaking it out in the toilet” is just not as straightforward as it sounded before Analie was born. We need one of those BumGenius sprayers. And we need one NOW.
I was lamenting to Joey, this afternoon, about how lame it is that whenever HE is home and she happens to poo, it’s not one of the Extreme ones. For instance, the last time he had to change one? The thing ACTUALLY SHOOK OUT IN THE TOILET. I was standing there in disbelief because that’s just not how it goes when it’s my turn. I will not even explain how “my turn” usually winds up going, either. None of you need to throw up that badly.
So I was telling Joey all my woes, most of which concerned poo, when he suddenly got the look he gets when he’s about to say something he thinks is awesome.
“You’re like the Poopsmith!” He crowed.
Sigh. It’s true. I am.