Warning: This post has too much information. About poop.
I am a great parent… to poop on. I first realized this yesterday, when I was holding Clover on my torso, in a manner in which e could look over my shoulder. This arrangement between miniature person and giant has always worked in the past. I may do anything that I want, if it can be done with one hand. Clover may look around behind me, sometimes providing an early warning system, and sometimes using piercing neuro-screaming to notify me that e would rather I move my entire body than force em to move eir already developed neck muscles.
While Clover and I exchange a certain amount of body heat, this time I felt something warm on my belly. Not against my belly, on it. My initial thought was, “oh man, I can’t believe I peed myself in front of/underneath my child, what kind of modeling is that?” Apparently I have some lingering childhood memories triggered by that particular sensation.
Of course it was not anything being expelled from my body. It is an odd moment when you are relieved that you were merely pooped on. I mean, no judgement, but that is not my thing. And on top of that, I was kinda fascinated. I mean, Clover was wearing a cloth diaper, a vinyl cover, pants, and then wrapped in a blanket. If nothing else, e must be exhausted.
We had a friend over, and Susan was about to leave with em. When we have a blow-out like that, we go into a different gear, since it somehow feels more humane to keep a child distracted with hand-holding and kisses than strapping them down so they don’t spread their work of art. Also, our changing table doesn’t come equipped as such.
Susan was debating wearing a certain shirt, and decided to change it. I was covered in poop. Clover needed a new outfit. Our friend may well have the impression that when our child changes our family tradition is to strip down, at least partially. Not a bad tradition, if only for when guests are over. Families that hang out in the corner of the tiny bathroom shirtless, stick together.
That was yesterday. I thought, nay hoped, that it was an isolated scenario. I was cleverly documenting my observations a short while ago when I felt something warm on my leg. I couldn’t see it immediately, because Clover was sitting there…