Floy was in charge of the kids tonight. He was giving me a little bloggy break so I could catch up on some blog reading. I have fallen waa-ay behind since my brother fell ill a few weeks ago.
Anyway…Floy came into our bedroom tonight with his hands held up in front of him like he had just contracted the bubonic plague, a horrified look on his face, making strange motions with his arms in an attempt to get my attention and open the bathroom door for him so he could wash up.
It seems that he was giving our 3 year old a bath and she did a “doodie” in the tub. (She has never done that before – this must have been a special gift just for daddy.) Floy fished it out with his hands and promptly plopped it in the toilet before
running walking calmly to my end of the house to wash up. Meanwhile, he left our daughter in the tub to get herself out.
I’m telling you this because as both a scrapbooker and a blogger, I’m dismayed for two reasons:
1.) I wanted to take a photo for her scrapbook , and
2.) I wanted to watch him perform this amazing feat – I’ve never seen anyone of the male persuasion even come close to touching a doodie with a ten foot pole.
Men are so squeamish, have you noticed? Or is it just me? I have washed out cloth diapers in doo doo water with my bare hands, thankyouverymuch. I’m not afraid of a little bowel movement. But she still should have warned him she it was coming…I so wish I could have seen the look on his face…this is the stuff parenting books are made of.
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