Raw Drip

When people talk about raising kids, they often wistfully remark on how “entertaining” children are.  Before I had kids of my own, I used to translate ”entertaining” into funny - like silly, sitcom funny.  Now that I have children I see the entertainment is so much more layered and complex with lots of yuck, yuck humor – only with much more emphasis on the “yuck” than I ever anticipated.

*****

As we were getting Adam changed out of his PJs the other morning, Dick and I observed a large brown stain on his t-shirt. 

Dick:  What is that on his shirt?

Me:  It’s poo. 

Dick:  Nooo.  That’s not poo.  How could poo end up way up there?

Dick:  Adam, what’s this brown stain on your shirt?

Adam:  What bwown sting, daddy?

“That…” Dick said pointing at the suspicious smear.

Adam:  “It’s poo.”

Dick:  How, on earth did you get poo on your shirt?

Adam:  I got it on me when I was going potty.

Dick:  Yes, I assumed that – but how, precisely, did poo get on your shirt?

Adam:  I dunno…I think it got on my shiwt when I was pooing.

Me:  See.  Told ya it was poo. 

*****

What I’ve learned is that the “entertainment” we all speak of so wistfully doesn’t just come from realizing your otherwise clean child has somehow managed to smear a substantial amount of poo on his t-shirt.  By now, Dick and are fairly immune to the prospect of errant feces.  Rather, it comes from the realization that you’re actually relieved that the poo is his own and, to add to your bemusement, you feel a sense of accomplishment for being able to accurately identify the mystery smear (from a distance and with a head cold I might add) and figuratively rub your husband’s nose in it.  Now…that’s entertainment value, right there, people.