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Poophand bitchslap

April 15, 2010

A great friend of mine once said you haven’t truly experienced parenthood until feces comes out of your child with enough force to hit the wall. While I’ve yet to experience that particular joy, I had an equally repulsive experience this morning.

Experiment 627 is obsessed with putting his hands in his pants. It’s not normally that bad. Sure, it’s a bit odd sitting on the couch next to a miniature Al Bundy, but my wife and I figure it could be worse.

Today, it got worse.

As I was sitting on the couch, reading a book while the children play in the same room, I suddenly, with a sense of smell honed by years of changing dirty diapers, detected a familiar wafting scent. 627 came strolling up to me, frowning, a penguin-like waddle betraying the gift he had for me.

I sat up, preparing to whisk him off and change his diaper, when he, with no warning, slaps me across the face. I was surprised, and then realized that the smell had gotten significantly worse. That’s right.

Poophand bitchslap.

Thankfully, my wife works from home, so I was able to simply scream in disgust and leave the little monster with her to clean off. Although I do wonder if I’ll ever really feel clean again.

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2 Comments
  1. that was hilarious. it makes my husband’s adventure with training pants sound like nothing.

  2. Robyn permalink

    That is just the beginning!!!! Your life will be full of “I can’t believe that just happened!!” or “I can’t believe they just said that!!” You are a FANTASTIC writer and I look forward to following you wherever you go……he he he he.

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