"Having two small kids was an eye opener in more ways than one" writes Sara Witham.
I think a great place to start with the intros here would be with poo. A four year old who constantly talks about it and analyses it, a baby who constantly produces it and me, who is constantly wiping it from bums.
Ok now we’ve broken the ice I’m wondering if anyone knows when you escape the poo hole, when does it become uninteresting, unfunny and when do you finally stop having to deal with it?
Poo can be applied to virtually anything according to the four year old. Poo-ter Rabbit, Poo Jetters, Poo Patrol (his favourite) and not to mention Poo-pa Pig (but that’s for babies).
I think my funniest poo experience so far would have to be the four year old on the loo. I ask, him, ‘You done babe?’ The response ‘Ummmm hang on Mummy... I’ve just got to wriggle my toes to get this one out’. A ‘toe wriggler’ is now a frequently used term in our house, you couldn’t make it up.
Having two small kids was an eye opener in more ways than one. The old classic ‘poonado’ where the baby decides to scupper your chances of getting his big brother to nursery on time by literally exploding. I’m dealing with this when a little voice shouts ‘I’m FINISHED’ from the loo, which is actually four year old code for ‘I need my bum wiped’. Ah, so many bums, so little time hey?
It’s ok though, I’ll stall the four year old, he can sit there for a bit whilst I deal with the baby, baby sorted, sit him up then entire bottle puke explosion. On the verge of compete and utter telephoning-the husband-support-line-and-crying-meltdown I just had to laugh, a lot. #mumlife
I actually s**t you not that in the middle of writing this, I went to make myself a drink (because a fly decided to die in my squash) and stepped in cat poo, actual cat poo. I think our elderly cat is having a laugh with me, he must have wanted to make my story more authentic. He’s spending the evening outside, until he earns back my trust which will be never.
I think I’ve reached peak poo, I’m going to go sterilise my foot and make myself a gin, in that order.