The night was sultry. The little guy had thrown up a small amount of his bottle earlier that day. We thought the worst was behind us… what happened next may not be for the squeamish.
Around 2 A.M. I heard a noise come from the little guy’s butt. The noise was both impressive and unsettling to my ears. As a dude I was impressed with the volume. As a parent I was horrified by the vibrato mixed with the sounds from the ocean. My first thought was – Good Lord in heaven. Maybe I could fake sleeping and let my wife deal with it.
About 5 seconds later… like a tide rolling in came a smell of dead birds. My wife awoke and heard round two come from the little guy like a cannon being shot through a swimming pool. AND then I heard it. “Matt, he needs his diaper changed.” I’m like, REALLY?! what clued you in. The seal team that just invaded his butt or maybe the stench of death you could taste in the air.
So I got ready to change the diaper. By now I had enough experience that I should be a pit crew leader at Daytona. I had 3 wipes ready and the new diaper opened. As I took off his onesy – it did not look so bad. I unlatched the tape and pulled off the front… what I saw is hard to describe. Something like chunks of tofu scattered in pumpkin pie filling. I cleaned it up as quickly and gently as possible. I said gently because what happened next one would think that I made him ride a roller coaster for an hour straight.
The next minute is still a blur. I must take some blame for not moving the dirty diaper (dirty does not express the reality) further away. I did not expect him to grab his manhood as quickly as he did. I stopped one hand but the other was now slimed as I held it by the wrist. I reached for a wipe and unslimed his hand. But the laws of physics proved that if you let go to reach for a wipe – one frees up what was once bound to return for seconds.
By this time I had both hands and one of his feet in my left hand and was wiping away with the other. It was only when I was done that I let my guard down as I reached for the fresh diaper. – His foot came crashing down… Pelé and Beckham would have been impressed. I twisted him to regain control. But the rotation moved his trajectory as I watched his foot land on top of the old diaper. As the foot came back up I caught it with my wiping hand. I actually said out loud, “there’s poop on his foot!”
I quickly cleaned it off and moved the diaper away. In seconds I had the new one on. The look on his face was disheartening. He was obviously not feeling well. He sat up and looked at me. I wish this were the end of the story – That he smiled and in his own way thanked me for my help.
I can best describe what I saw as if one were watching one of those exorcism movies or “Stand by me.” The projectile noise ended my wife’s attempt to act like she fell back asleep. As I and the surrounding sheets were covered in a milky white liquid, she sat up and gasped – drawing the little guys attention right before he unleashed round 2. The feeling of ooze hitting her face and arm took her out of sleepy mode and into high alert. For a fraction of a second I was both laughing and having my heart break. Heart break cause my little guy was very sick and throwing up… laughing cause my wife just got it and I could hear her begin to gag as she realized what just happened.
I laid him down and caressed his head. I cleaned him up and handed him off so I could remove the soiled bedding. Minutes later it was over. He lay fast asleep, sick and feeling horrible. For the next several nights he lay between us on top of spread out towels. Towels that came in handy when Poopfoot 3 began filming the next night. But that is for another time.
