Todd got his first, shall we say, "explosive diaper" the other day. No leakage, just insanely FULL. Please keep in mind that Luke is now six months old and Dad has only had to change a few number twos. For some reason I am the fortunate one who finds the poop.
But while I am upstairs all I can hear is, "OH MY GOD!!!! You have got to see this! HOLY SHIT!!!"
I pear downstairs, "Why yes, Todd, that is a poopy diaper." I have seen enough in my lifetime to not be impressed, no matter what the magnitude of poop is. I have had my "fill" so-to-speak.
Then I begin to hear gagging. Gagging people! "Are you gagging?!?!"
Disgruntled Husband: "Yes! This is disgusting!"
Bemused Wife: "O.K., for the record, when you are at work and discover a dead body you don't gag?"
DH: "Nope." Gag...
BW: "And when you are at work and see brain matter sprayed against a wall doesn't bother you?"
DH: "No." Gag...
BW: "But your own son's poop, which is 50% genetically your poop, bothers you?"
DH: "Yup." Gag...
BW: "O.K., just checking."
I can't believe poo is what brought my strong, brave husband to his knees. This is why women give birth.
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