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S*** Happens – 2

Warning: Do not read this if you have just eaten, or if you are about to have your meal. Poop will be discussed and described in great detail.

Some time ago, S*** happened. We learnt then that I’m horrible in situations like these, because all I do is laugh and say, “I don’t know what to do!” and clearly, things haven’t improved since then.


On Friday, Noah had yet another diaper malfunction, but this one was of even greater proportions than the last. We were out having lunch, and Noah started fussing, so C took him out for a walk. Thank goodness I’m a slower eater than him, or I would have been the one covered in poop! Anyway, I was happily enjoying my meal when C suddenly came back to our table and said, “Dear, he pooped.”

I was reluctant to leave the table as I hadn’t finished eating, so I asked, “Are you sure?” C’s response was to lift up his left hand that was holding Noah’s thigh, and underneath it was… a huge glob of poop. At that moment, all I could think of was, ‘Can I finish my meal first?’, so I stared blankly at C, and hoped that he would say that he could clean the baby up on his own.

Me: So how? What do you want me to do? I don’t know what to do!

C: You have to come with me to clean him up lah!

Me: But I’m still eating.

C: Leave our things here, just take the diaper bag!

As we hurried to the toilet, more poop oozed out of the baby’s diaper, and flowed down both his thighs. It took many, many wet wipes to clean up the horrible mess, and I still shudder, just thinking about the smell of all that poop. I asked C why I ended up being the one cleaning the baby up, and his reason was, “You looked like you wanted to take charge.” *rolls eyes*

After I put Noah in a new diaper and romper, C sniffed the baby and insisted that he still smelled of poop, but we couldn’t find any trace of it on him, so we went back to the restaurant. I still don’t know how I managed to eat after that, but I guess all mums have learnt to ignore things like that. While I was eating, C kept sniffing around and then, he discovered the source of the stench: himself.

C: I think I’ve got some of his poop on my foot.

He stood up, and as he reached across the table to get a wet tissue from me, I saw, to my great horror, poop on his tee, on his arm, and on his sleeve. All together now… EEEWWWWWWWWWWWW.

It was a very unpleasant car-ride home for C, as he had to bear with the stench on his shirt and slipper (yes, there was poop on it too), while I giggled each time I thought about what happened, and the baby napped happily, completely unaffected by it all.

C’s summary of the incident? “S*** on daddy, sleep on mummy.” Hahaha.

PS. I think we should both bring a change of clothes in our hand-carry luggage when we go on our holiday next month! You never know when something like that will happen again, and being stuck in poop-covered clothes on a plane doesn’t sound enjoyable at all.

The baby, pre-poop


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