Dad's on duty

I had to giggle. And maybe have a good chuckle.


Like most households Mama is probably the primary caregiver which translates to Mama does pretty much everything. Well at least that's what it feels like.


This includes potty training, toilet duties and little size 3-4 scants checks.


Most mornings I get everything and everyone done and ready for school and work. I aim to be out of the house by 7:45 am but realistically its usually, if I'm lucky, 20 minutes later.


This morning I'm done and ready and waiting and have called The Boy down 35 times already. Jake and the Neverland Pirates are just too interesting for him to actually take note of Mama bellowing her imminent departure time and threats of abandonment and Home Alone scenarios.


Finally The Darling Husband hauls the child downstairs. But while carrying him down he is starting to wrinkle his nose and darting concerned looks in my direction.


"Um, Jude, I think we have a situation here..."


I'm playing dumb. Or annoyingly unsympathetic.


So Dad takes the Boy to the loo and reluctantly examines the contents of our angel's underpants.


Now, The Husband's nose is very sensitive, as is his gag reflex. (This is a man who emptied an entire air freshener can the first time I changed our newborn son's butternut-yellow poo nappy at home).
A whole lot of clearing of his throat and sniffing and gagging commences while trying to extract the Boy's legs from his shorts and soiled undergarments while avoiding letting the offending mess plop onto the floor. Or his shoes. The horror.


Where am I? I am, for once, an amused spectator. Shoulders quietly shaking with mirth, I observe both members of our home's male population huddled around the toilet.
Dad is in possession of the orange undies and is shaking the stinky contents into the bowl. But this must be a stubborn sh*t as I hear him muttering "Jou bliksem..!" as he employs a more vigorous approach. Finally the drol rolls into the loo and we can start cleaning up.


("That's a beeeg one!" exclaims The Boy, for good measure.)


Fresh underpants, flushed toilet, windows opened wide and we can finally make our exodus from the house, Mama still chortling.


This was a shitty blog post, I know.