It was just like any other day, me a sleepless zombie, hair unwashed, teeth barely brushed, wearing the same spit-up stained sweat pants for the 7th day in a row. As I tried to enjoy the now-iced-cold tea, I heard the unmistakable sound of baby pooping. I looked over and there it was, cute as a monkey's butt was her poop face. Oh you know what I am talking about, THE poop face: face all squished up, red, straining, always looking like they are trying to open a seized up jar of pickles.
Being such a perfect mother that I was, I immediately set down my now-twice-as-cold cup of tea and took her to the change table. I took a deep breath and slowly opened up her diaper to inspect the damage, maybe even with a hint of childhood excitement, like waiting for a firecracker to explode and excited to see its destruction. It was to my relieve that the damage was not as bad as it sounded. Don't you find it weird that the worst poop is never the worst sounding poop? I guess baby poops follow the same law as farts: Silent but deadly.
I thought to myself, yes! this one is easy peasy! As I was about to commence the clean up protocol, my relieve turned into absolute horror... There it was, her legs up and open, the poo rainbow squirted out of her tiny bunghole like a fireman's hose on full blast. In my head I screamed oh my f**king god! but what came out was just one long high pitch scream accompanied by the sound of squirting poo. How does such a tiny thing contain such big volume of waste?! The poo rainbow hit everything within arms reach: the change table, the wall, the rocking chair, the floor. Needless to say, the spit-up stain on my sweat pants was now going to town with the new shit stain.
The image of that squirting poo is forever burnt into my mind. Many years from now when civilization is destroyed and aliens come and dig me up and probe my brain, the first thing they will see will be The Poo Rainbow, and they will think What odd little creatures these are.
