I Ask One Simple Question & My Wife Ends Up in Her Underwear

EDITOR’S NOTE: To celebrate the birth of our new blessing, Ily Anabelle, this is a four-part series of previously-written blog posts about daddyhood. These posts, branded as “unsolicited/friendly parenting advice,” originally ran on my defunct blog: A Crash Course in Daddyhood. This post – which originally ran May 15, 2010 – is the first in the four-part series.

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Beware of this question: “Has he pooped today?”

If you and/or your spouse utters those four words, hold on tight. (Actually…on second thought….DON’T DO THAT! Holding on tight will make the problem worse – you might want to get a spare diaper, a fresh packet of wet wipes and a change of clothes for yourself. A garden hose is optional.)

Earlier today, I asked my wife that exact question – “Has Crash pooped today?”

Crash Greer MyersShe thought about it. I thought about it. We decided he hadn’t.  We weren’t concerned – we just thought it was kind of odd. (Reminder: He’s our little crap master.)

As the day progressed, Crash was getting crankier and crankier – a little earlier than he normally does.

We went through the checklist:

• Food – check!

• Burp – check!

• Clean diaper – check!

I briefly thought back to my “poop inquiry,” but I didn’t dwell on it.

We took Crash outside to sit on our neighbor’s porch swing – one of his favorite things to do. It calmed him down just enough for his mom to take a deep breath and for me to make a quick run to the store.

As I pulled out of the driveway, Crash had a calm – but semi-dazed – look on his face. TK was smiling from ear to ear, thrilled Crash had found a quasi-happy place.

When I got back from the store, the moment had passed. TK was yelling at the top of her lungs:

“Drew….get in here and help me!”

I broke into a quick jog and followed her voice to the front bathroom.

She was standing in her underwear, Crash was laying on the counter – his diaper halfway on – and there was yellow poop EVERYWHERE.

There was poop on the counter.

There was poop on TK’s jeans, which were now laying on the floor.

There was poop on his socks. His torso. His legs.

He had unleashed the “Ultimate Code Yellow.”

Ten minutes after I pulled out of the driveway, Crash’s brief bout of constipation subsided while sitting on his mom’s lap. She said she thought it was a normal baby bowel movement. “Until I felt the warmth spread across my lap,” she quickly added.

This “Code Yellow” got out of his cloth diaper in a hurry. All over the swing. All over his mommy. All over the driveway as TK raced him home – straight to the bathroom counter.

Crash Greer MyersWhen I walked into the bathroom, I was in stunned silence by the yellow mess. (And the fact my wife was standing there in her underwear.)

I quickly shifted my attention to my son’s face.

For the first time in several hours, he was smiling like he had just won a championship. He even laughed out loud, which of course made me giggle.

I looked at TK – she wasn’t amused.

“You give him a bath…I have to go hose off the driveway,” she said as she walked out of the bathroom.

Crash and I smiled at each other again.

“Make sure you put on some pants!”

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