I think poop is amazing.
Mom just doesn't get it. She doesn't seem to understand the thrill, the joy, the excitement, the possibilities. Not only that, but she gets MAD whenever she sees it in my hands. Go figure.
Recently, she has practically been putting me in an infant straightjacket (a onesie under a t-shirt and pants--doesn't she know how hot it is out here?) to try and keep my hands out of my diaper. I'm flexible and resourceful though, and I can usually figure out a way to at least get a finger in there.
A few weeks ago, on our trip to New York, I overheard Mom tell Dad early in the day that they were out of wipes and hoped that I wouldn't poop until they got home that night. I decided to take advantage of the opportunity and poop as often as I could, just to see what they would do. And of course, like any normal one-year-old, I would fuss and wiggle around and try to touch my poop while they were changing me with wet paper towels. They didn't seem to enjoy it, but I thought it was hilarious.
It gets even better though. Mom totally forgot to change me out of shorts into pants for our drive home, and whenever I have shorts on, I have direct access to my diaper if I just spread my legs out a bit in my car seat. It was go time. I pooped out the smelliest, best poop I could work up, then stuck my hands right in there. (I think it feels the best when it is warm.) I was so proud of myself. I made sure to touch all of my clothes, parts of my body, and all over my car seat as quickly as I could before she smelled it.
Oh BOY you should have seen the look of horror and shock on her face when she sniffed and then turned around to look at me! I must have had it pretty visible on my face and arms, because she looked like she was going to puke! She and Dad pulled right over to a store and bought a pack of wipes and then wiped me down while I did my normal fuss and wiggle routine. It was a riot!
I decided to give her a break for a few days. (It's part of my plan to make her forget how capable I am of wreaking havoc.)
Today she had me in a onesie and a pair of pants when she put me down for a nap, like usual. After a short nap, I woke up pooping, and the feeling was...different. I just HAD to touch my poop and see what it felt like in my hands. Like I said, I was in pants, but the pant leg was just wide enough for me to reach up and get a finger in my diaper. The poop was dense and chunky, so I dug little chunks out to look at them. Awesome. How does my body come up with this stuff? My mom heard me laughing and knew I was awake, so she came in and picked me up and asked me if I needed a diaper change. I replied with my happy, "Poo poo!" and she smiled proudly at me. It took her a few minutes to realize what had happened and that there were poop chunks all over the pack n' play. I pretended to be sorry, but MAN is it funny to see her grossed out!
My poop and I have lots of plans for the future...
Mom just doesn't get it. She doesn't seem to understand the thrill, the joy, the excitement, the possibilities. Not only that, but she gets MAD whenever she sees it in my hands. Go figure.
Recently, she has practically been putting me in an infant straightjacket (a onesie under a t-shirt and pants--doesn't she know how hot it is out here?) to try and keep my hands out of my diaper. I'm flexible and resourceful though, and I can usually figure out a way to at least get a finger in there.
A few weeks ago, on our trip to New York, I overheard Mom tell Dad early in the day that they were out of wipes and hoped that I wouldn't poop until they got home that night. I decided to take advantage of the opportunity and poop as often as I could, just to see what they would do. And of course, like any normal one-year-old, I would fuss and wiggle around and try to touch my poop while they were changing me with wet paper towels. They didn't seem to enjoy it, but I thought it was hilarious.
It gets even better though. Mom totally forgot to change me out of shorts into pants for our drive home, and whenever I have shorts on, I have direct access to my diaper if I just spread my legs out a bit in my car seat. It was go time. I pooped out the smelliest, best poop I could work up, then stuck my hands right in there. (I think it feels the best when it is warm.) I was so proud of myself. I made sure to touch all of my clothes, parts of my body, and all over my car seat as quickly as I could before she smelled it.
Oh BOY you should have seen the look of horror and shock on her face when she sniffed and then turned around to look at me! I must have had it pretty visible on my face and arms, because she looked like she was going to puke! She and Dad pulled right over to a store and bought a pack of wipes and then wiped me down while I did my normal fuss and wiggle routine. It was a riot!
I decided to give her a break for a few days. (It's part of my plan to make her forget how capable I am of wreaking havoc.)
Today she had me in a onesie and a pair of pants when she put me down for a nap, like usual. After a short nap, I woke up pooping, and the feeling was...different. I just HAD to touch my poop and see what it felt like in my hands. Like I said, I was in pants, but the pant leg was just wide enough for me to reach up and get a finger in my diaper. The poop was dense and chunky, so I dug little chunks out to look at them. Awesome. How does my body come up with this stuff? My mom heard me laughing and knew I was awake, so she came in and picked me up and asked me if I needed a diaper change. I replied with my happy, "Poo poo!" and she smiled proudly at me. It took her a few minutes to realize what had happened and that there were poop chunks all over the pack n' play. I pretended to be sorry, but MAN is it funny to see her grossed out!
My poop and I have lots of plans for the future...
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