She is becoming a veritable poop machine. Her bowel habits are variable and I don’t pretend to understand them, but lately she’s been pooping upwards of five times a day. She’s still hilarious when she does, stopping in mid-babble, holding her breath, and turning five shades of red.
There was a moment yesterday when I was dealing with the kiwi seeds that had made it into her sticky mass of poo. I stood there at the changing table trying to keep her from wriggling away and thought, I cannot believe I am picking kiwi seeds off someone’s bum. When someone asks me what I’ve done with my eight-year degree, that is what I should say.
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