Friday, February 27, 2009

in which poo is mentioned, but only briefly

It’s been busier than Wollongong on welfare pay-day around here.

With one toilet-training toddler and one puree-guzzling baby in cloth nappies, the washing is threatening to engulf us all. Four loads in a day isn’t unusual. Piles of laundry are everywhere. If I’m not cooking the food, I’m wiping it up, shopping for it, or dealing with its resting place after a long alimentary journey south.

This is where we are spending a lot of time.














And also here. No, Teddy. My Thomas.













T-Bone was grizzly today – he’s getting a tooth and had his vaccinations. Not a happy chappie. His new measurements are in – he’s in the 80th percentile for fattiness, the 95th for height and the 50th for head circumference. So he’s going to be really tall, pretty fat, and sport a tiny head. Ladies, start your engines!

I was in my usual training for the Multi-Task Olympics today, during the 6 o'clock crazy hour. I had just done a nappy tackle when I crossed past the kitchen and a little rabbit pellet of poo leapt into the Tupperware drawer and disappeared. So in the middle of all the usual chaos I had to empty a tower of containers and cups onto the kitchen floor in an unscheduled poo-hunt.

And here I had promised myself (and my mother) I would stop writing about poo.

Damn.

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Thanks for talking to me. I don't got cooties. Oh, except for when I got cooties.