Poop and Sensitivity

On the same day that my six year old son Alex wrote and illustrated a book called My Family (which had a page for every person in the family: Daddy, Mom, Grand-dad, Uncle Eddie, and even my brother Chris, who died several years ago in a car accident) on this very same day that he made my wife cry with this book, and on the same day that my five year old son Ian illustrated his own book-- a book full of scary monsters drawn with loving care and detail . . . on this very same day of creativity and sensitivity, on this same day my children would also-- while my wife was printing photos to put in Alex's aforementioned wonderful book-- these same wonderful boys would come across a couple of old diapers, diapers they were out of long enough to remember them humorously and reminiscently, and in a fit of depraved nostalgia, put the diapers on, simultaneously defecate and urinate in them, laugh hysterically, and then toss the evidence of this scatological prank into the bathroom waste basket, for me to discover when I went to check on them-- because they were so quiet; at the top of the stairs I smelled something awful and wondered what it could be and finally-- with no help from the giggling perpetrators-- found the soiled diapers stuffed into the bathroom waste basket . . . all on the very same day.

6 comments:

zoltan said...

Perhaps it's because they share 50% of their genome with you?

stacey said...

I am laughing so hard my stomach hurts. I am so sorry - your life is ridiculous.

Dave said...

the worst thing is-- they're just starting to cooperate and play together, and they really were having a good time and doing something together-- it's just that it was team defecation and urination.

Whitney said...

This is precisely how the Kray brothers got their start in London.

Esoderic said...

Absolutely wonderful!

zoltan said...

Or the Quay Brothers.

A New Sentence Every Day, Hand Crafted from the Finest Corinthian Leather.