Wednesday, November 9, 2011
My friend Shortstuff recently confessed to me that way back when Mo-mo was first born, she misunderstood something that I said. And she was way too polite and grossed out to ask me to clarify.
We were talking on the phone, and Batman called to me from the other room. Hold on, I said, Batman is calling me. I listened to what he had to say. I have to go, I told her. Batman needs my help. There's a poop emergency.
Being that Mo-mo was fairly small, what I thought I conveyed was that Mo-mo had managed (as young babies do) to poop through the side of her diaper and Batman needed a hand getting her gross onesie off and giving her a quick bath.
What Shortstuff thought I meant was that Batman was having a poop emergency. And she was rather alarmed and confused, having no idea 1) how a grown man could have a poop emergency and 2) what sort of help I could lend my husband during said poop emergency.
I am actually impressed that she was able to look him in the eye after that.