Thumbing my nose at poo- nut gallery
apology to anyone who’s eating breakfast – this isn’t going to be pretty.
Also, a warning to the grouches who mumble into their beards whenever people dare to talk about their kids in public: this story contains children. It may also contain traces of poo and vomit.
And what’s with the parent-bashing, by the way? It seems like we can’t win – ‘‘ you work too much, you don’t work enough, there’s no discipline these days’’.
Do they really believe parenthood involves rolling in a Scrooge McDuck bin of welfare dollars, counting our plasma televisions while the kids run riot in the streets?
Are all people without children selfish, warty, cat lovers, destined to die unsatisfied and lonely, possibly while eating dinner on the toilet? No, that’s a wildly inaccurate generalisation. Annoying isn’t it?
Anyway, I intended to write about crap itself, not about people who speak it.
It seems everyone has an embarrassing childhood story about number-twos – my Mum happily tells anyone who’ll listen about the time I politely offered a bowl of ‘ poo-nuts’ to people we had over for tea.
‘‘ That was only last year,’’ my Dad will chime in at these re-tellings. Dad jokes are so funny.
But I intend to pay it forward. My one-year-old daughter recently initiated a stinking armageddon that could make prime fodder for her 21st birthday.
I went to her room after her afternoon sleep, and she was smiling up at me – smeared eyelash-totoenails in the most offensive mess I’d ever seen.
As I stood there, staring in disbelief and wondering where to begin, my four-year-old son walked in. He took one look at his little sister and promptly spewed all over himself and the floor.
It’s uncanny how these things only happen when my husband is at work. After the clean-up, I had some helpful hints from horrified facebook friends about how I could have dealt with it. Hosing them down was a popular suggestion – and one I will certainly keep in mind if faced with another epic excrement episode. Road Ode: Oh green ute with dents in the door, why are you tailgating me?
Does your spiky-haired driver have trouble seeing objects in the middle distance?
Is he really talking on his mobile and eating a cheeseburger? He looks like he’s about 13. I wish I knew his Mum.