We live in a poo house

(I apologise in advance for bringing the tone of the blog down with this post. But really, kids are gross. There's no getting away from that, delightful though they may be. And so, it seems a little too tidy to have a blog about little kids without talking about poo somewhere along the way. )

It was epic. Yes. one of my baby's once-every-three-days poos. I am sorry, once again, to be fulfilling that nappies-scones-poos-and-wees cliche about mothering conversation that we all know and love... but you should have seen it. There I was, walking down the hallway, with clean, fed, tired baby all ready for bed, and dirty, fed, tired toddler all ready for bed. And then, without warning, the baby's nappy exploded in my hands. Yellow, sticky goop everywhere - down my top, trousers, shoes, the carpet, and all over the baby. It was quite amazing both in quantity and aim, with the sheer number of square feet of affected fabric being quite overwhelming. I stood in shock, holding the baby at arm's length, making feeble sort of 'aaah' noises. Eventually, I came to, plonked the baby on the nearest washable surface - the hard bathroom floor - where he proceeded to smear his little feet in the mess, gurgling with glee (think snow angels, but with poo.) I rushed to gather my retaliatory ammunition, consisting of - somewhat appropriately - a facecloth with a large yellow picture of Winnie the Pooh on it. Ah, those beautiful moments of congruence that can so easily pass us by. Anyway, it was a vast clean-up job, the details of which I shall spare you. But I will say this: boy was I calm, cool, and businesslike. Yup - no poo too large for this lady.
Until, after some time, when all was very nearly cleaned up, I noticed my two year old rushing merrily around with suspicious-looking yellow hair. Yes, he does have yellowish hair normally, but.... yes. It's true. What you're thinking. With all the pre-meditation of a zucchini, Master Two had reached into that yellow mess and wiped it through his hair. (A new market niche product! Not 'Bed-Head', not 'wax' or 'mud', but 'Poo-Head!'). He also had no clothes on by this stage (another story) - except gumboots. Gumboots go best with no other clothes on - ask any toddler. And as i saw this little Thing One (or is it Thing Two) flash past, poo-encrusted hair, gumboots on, I was somehow reminded of that moment in The Titanic where Miss Winslet lounges, holding up that winking jewelled necklace, and instructs Leonardo, in a throaty whisper: 'i want you to draw me. Wearing this. Wearing...ONLY this." Yes, I imagined my toddler, with a little less suggestiveness in his tone, resplendent in his gumboots - just his gumboots - holding forth: 'I shall have poo in my hair! Wearing gumboots! Wearing...ONLY gumboots.'
Anyway. I have learned today that baby poo can dye already blonde hair a lighter, brighter shade of yellow, somewhat akin to Turmeric. Schwarzkopf, here we come.