Tyler was a monster when he was twenty months old.

Audrey is a peanut.

Audrey had her well-baby checkup recently. While she is on the growth chart… she is only barely on the growth chart. My little, tiny munchkin is merely in the 12th percentile for growth and weight. So, if 100 little girls lined up that were the same age as Audrey, and they were sorted according to size, Audrey would be the 12th in line, with 88 girls bigger than her.

She is absolutely one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever laid eyes on

She pooped in the tub a couple days ago. Her and Tyler were in the tub having a grand ol’ time together. Tyler looked over and said “There’s something gross in here” and reached for something that confused me.

If you were to see an alligator sitting on your couch, your brain would shut down for a moment so that it could process what it was seeing.

What I was seeing was a little turd floating up in the bathwater. My brain wasn’t ready for that, so it quit working for a few seconds. Luckily for Tyler, it came back to life about half a second before Tyler grabbed the stink-nugget with his fingers.

“Ohhhhhhhhhh….. Audrey.” I honestly don’t know what else I said, but it was in a tone that Sarah recognized as “not-very-good”.

I grabbed Tyler, and yanked him out of the tub before the poo-tainted water got to him. I wrapped him in a towel and told him something like “stay away.”

I grabbed Audrey – by the part of her body that wasn’t in the sewage – and lifted her straight up… and then I froze. I hadn’t thought my plan through and I had no idea what my next steps were… So I just stood there… unable to do anything.

Poop and vomit disgust me. Especially when they are somewhere they aren’t supposed to be. You know, like in a bathtub. When something like this happens – and very luckily for my general health and well-being, this has only happened 3 times in the last 5 years – I can’t cope or function. I become completely dependent on Sarah to give me some guidance on how to do simple things, like breathing or swallowing.

So, I turned to look at Sarah with nothing less than an expression of utter bewilderment and fear.

“Sit her on the toilet,” she said.

And that’s what I did.

Then, I looked in the tub full of water and toys, and poop. It wasn’t all solid and it wasn’t all diarrhea. But it was all disgusting. I locked my gaze on the drain. I just stared at it. Somehow, the plug had to be pulled. I looked at it longer and prayed for a miracle that never came. I flicked my eyes to my left hand then back to the drain… and I was scared.

But I did it. I stared into the water, waiting for the poo-sludge to move around just enough to give me a slight opening to the drain. I reached in, quickly and deliberately, and popped it.

And then I did what any good husband would do… I washed my hands and occupied the kids while Sarah put all the tainted toys in a plastic bag and scooped all the poop into the toilet.

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One Thought on “My Munchkin

  1. Anonymous on October 20, 2012 at 7:59 am said:

    Thanks 4 info Joe , great morning llaugh , glad it was you an not me . times to remember. what a wonderful time in your life ! lol

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