The one thing that all parents have in common, no matter how they choose to raise their kids, is poop. There’s always going to be poop, and there’s always going to be stories directly involving poop.
We have a good friend that told us that when our daughter was born, we only get to tell him 2 poop stories… period. He didn’t want to hear any more than 2 stories revolving our daughter and her shitty habits. Unfortunately for the readers of this site, I can talk about shit as much as I want and there’s not much you can do about it, since it’s my site…
So here we go with the first, and one of the more recent stories, involving fecal matter and my daughter. And no, in the timeline of things, this isn’t the first incident we’ve had to deal with when it comes to this topic, it’s just the freshest in my mind at the moment, and it’s one that I don’t think I’ll ever forget.
It was a normal Monday night during the winter, not sure if it was just before or just after the holidays, but around that time. My wife works a 2nd job on certain nights of the week, which leaves me to hang out with our daughter, get her fed, and put her to sleep, after she gets home from daycare. It’s nothing I’m not used to, I’ve been doing it since my wife went back to work after her maternity leave. It’s some nice father daughter time… most of the time.
On this particular night, I needed to send out a couple more quick emails once we got home from me picking her up from daycare. Nothing that would take more than 5 minutes tops, and Thing One is pretty self sufficient these days in terms of being able to entertain herself for a few minutes while I knock out some last minute work. Plus, my office is right off of the living room, so it’s not like I’m far away.
As soon as we got in the door, I took her shoes and coat off, turned on the TV (normally the TV doesn’t get turned on until after dinner, but this was an exception), and set her up to play in the living room for 5 minutes while I ran back to my computer.
Now, to preface this a little bit, Thing One had gotten into the habit of putting her hand down the back of her diaper (I’m sure you can see where this is going). It wasn’t too concerning up to this point, but we were making it a point to try and teach her that it wasn’t a good thing to do… and she was about to find out why it’s not a good thing to do….
I shit you not, I was sitting at my desk for no more than 3 minutes when all I hear from just outside the door is “Dada, chocolate?”
My immediate thought was, ahh shit, she found some candy that we left on the kitchen table or something and wants me to open it for her.
That would have been the best case scenario.
Instead, I walk out into the living room, again, literally 3 feet away, and there is Thing One, holding her hand up in the air in front of her face, covered in shit (literal poop), looking at me, saying “dada, chocolate?”, in the most innocent voice you’ve ever heard. I mean come on, she thought it was chocolate.
It most definitely was not chocolate, and thankfully she didn’t actually think it was chocolate and try to eat it… at least I don’t think she did. There wasn’t anything around her mouth, or on her other hand or anything, which lead me to believe that she wanted to make sure she asked my permission before she was allowed to eat the “chocolate”, which is good.
Of course I was a bit taken aback by the brown covered hand, and immediately grabbed her and took her into the bathroom to clean her up. It was pretty gross, but honestly, her hand being covered in shit wasn’t my biggest concern…
What the fuck else did she touch in the house before she came to show me? That, was my biggest concern, and still kind of worries me.
Even though this incident happened months ago, I have still yet to find anywhere that she may have wiped her hand. It’s both comforting and worrisome at the same time, cause I know she had to have touched something, but I just can’t figure out what… Maybe when we’re in the process of moving all our stuff to our new house in the next couple weeks, I’ll come across it, but until then I’ll just be left wondering…
And on top of all that, when she was eating dinner that night, she decided to bite the lid of her sippy cup and pop the seal a bit, thus dumping a full cup of milk down the front of her shirt and pants…
It was a crazy night to say the least, but it makes for an amazing story, and memory, so I wouldn’t have changed it for the world… my daughter gave me the most epic stink palm of all time.
Don’t worry though, mama got some chocolate a few months later, but we’ll save that story for another day.