As was described to me today over the phone while I pored over the administrative crap that seems to dominate my job at the moment, a bear shat. She let rip. An explosion in a sewerage processing plant. A world of choc for mum and bear to share.
She'd been funny for a day or so, eating too little, not sleeping enough at times, not pooing enough, several times in a row. We worried; could she be sick? Is it something we did? Something mum ate? Something dad fed to mum? Is it bird flu? The bubonic plague?
But I didn't think she was ill. Although she was more pensive (or something looking like 'pensive', perhaps pent-up's more like it) than usual this morning, during my daily 5 minutes of lap time before I am wrenched from my loved ones by the irresistible pull of 8.30 Epping line, she seemed alert, her skin and eyes seemed fine, she still spoke... adwu... argool.... ewou...
And it would seemed her message was simple: stand back, I got something brewing. The explosion got past her nappy, past her legs, onto beloved, beloved's clothes, furniture. Her bowels announced their arrival in the world of serious movement. And we were proud.
What a good little Bear!
Lazy Sunday
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Since we don’t live by politics alone (I sincerely hope), what else did
people get up to this weekend? Join in, share some tales, regulars and
lurkers all!
14 hours ago
11 comments:
Aah, yes. There is always at least one of those in a little bear's life. Or more.
Enjoy ;)
And to think I was feeling a little clucky (in a manly way, of course).
Cured. Thanks!
At least she wasn't in her carseat (half way home) when it happened.
This is one of those 'not instinctive' but learned things that mothers develop in order to give over the precious bundle just before the explosion.
What a great story. It's got everything - family values, cuteness, and shit. Lots of shit. I can just see that final image in my head.
You must be very proud! Did you applaud?
Hilarious! I was going to say "yeah, there's always one of those... and clicked on Comments and Mark's taken the words right out of my mouth in the very first comment...
*giggling*
(2)Also, when babies look pensive, they are contemplating a relly big shit. That should be pointed out in the baby books, I think, but it isn't.
(3) Also, you can remind her about it every five years or so, which is a tremendous way to get them going.
Cast Iron Balcony
oh man ... no video for the 21st
Aah, but some baby shit stories will always remain vivid, and stored for the 21st. Such as when my eldest did a really big shat on the top of Mount Oberon (Wilson's Prom, Victoria) – we'd walked up during a holiday at the Prom when he was just under 4 months. It took a while to clean him up.
We wanted to print him a t-shirt, "I crapped on top of Mt Oberon". I regret we didn't.
Justine's blog has a great post re similar
Mark,
SO is starting up a T shirt printing biz. I'll look into it. What size is eldest?
Cast Iron Balcony
^^ nice blog!! ^@^
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