Monday, September 15, 2008
It's one of the reasons why I love her so.
My 3 year old. A study in honesty. For the most part. Before I get to the funny part, let me give you some background.

I hate it when my husband takes a dump. (yes. for those of you with weak stomachs...yes... this IS a shit post). It's horrid, nasty,'s beyond human comprehension to understand the stench. It's so bad that when we buy houses, I insist that one of the MUST HAVE features is a "man-bathroom". This is the bathroom into which he is allowed to dump. Because if he uses the others, they need to be cleaned with napalm. It's horrid. I'm not lying. I also submit that everytime he craps, it causes the toilet to clog. I don't think it's an issue of bad plumbing. I think it's an issue of the toilet refusing to accept what he made. I think the city sewer system seizes up when he settles down on the throne. That's how bad it is.

He thinks I'm exaggerating. I'm not. I've been married to him for 11 years. I pull no punches on how nasty his shit is. We go back and forth in little tiffs here and there about how unreasonable it is for me to insist he poops in the man-room only. I agree with him, it IS unreasonable, but it will remain my law.

We've pretty much settled into a routine now, where he is resigned to the fact that he is banished to the man-room to do his nasty business, and we've got a plunger parked in there for him to force feed the toilet when it gags. I do my part by not bitching about how nasty that bathroom smells.

So on to Avery.

She came flying down the stairs and announced that she had to pee. Bad. And she scampered off into the bathroom. Unknowingly -- or else I would have nabbed her-- my man had offloaded about an hour ago. When she flung herself into the bathroom, she was immediately flung backwards by an invisible wall of stink.


When a THREE year old is repelled by an odor - that oughta tell you how very bad it is. She wobbled into the living room and encountered my husband. "Daddy" she mumbled "whats that smell?" "Oh." he said, glancing my way... (i ducked my head to hide a smirk) "I guess I went potty."

"oh" said Avery

"Daddy? You sick?"


"Daddy, when you get big, how come the poopoo smells like that? It's yuck." and then....

she threw up.

I love her so.

Not because she threw up.

But because it made my husband realize that maybe, just maybe...his shit is nuclear.


A battle that has lasted 11 frickin' years has been chalked up to ME WINNING!


**ok. Explanation here. This is the best post I can punch out right now. I had to work all weekend long and pulled in 24 hours of overtime on saturday and sunday alone. I'm scheduled to work all week from 7am to 7pm to help out the people who are calling in claims for Hurricane Ike. I'm tired. And if I hear one more call from people whining that they have a frickin' DOOR DING on their Jag and they want to get it repaired before the HURRICANE people start blocking up the repair shops, I'm gonna scream. (and yes - that's an exact quote from one of our insureds who has absolutely NO COMPASSION for people who just lost their homes.) What an ass.
posted by Norman at 7:25 PM | Permalink |


Get awesome blog templates like this one from