Poop Barf

Diana called me today and asked if I would please add a new blog post so she doesn’t have to look at Bruce Sprinsteen’s butt every time she turns on the computer. But I’ve been up to my ears in sports cars, so I’m really without good Elijah material. And as you know, my wife is a bad Eli story giver.

So I asked Diana to manufacture an Eli incident.

“Give him some matches and watch the hilarity fly!” I said.

“No. We have too many cute things to burn our house down.”

“Then. Strip him naked and throw him in the street.”

“No. I like him too much to have DCFS take him away.”

I hung up, frustrated with my Eli writer’s block. So I had to break into my vault of embarrassing and gross dad stories.

***DISCLAIMER*** This is a gross story that involves poop and barf. So if you don’t like stories of poop and barf, go read that Bruce story again.

OK. So what’s my poop and barf secret story? I barf when Eli poops. All the time. And it’s gotten worse over the last couple months. Especially now that he’s getting bigger. When I change his diaper and there is some especially icky contents, I’ll honk. It’s terrible. I can’t help it. I have a hair trigger gag reflex. Ask Grover.

Luckily, the Diaper Gene makes a terrific barf slash poop receptacle. And now that Elijah is getting good at potty training, I can usually make it to the toilet, a mere two feet away from his potty.

I am worried about how this affects Elijah. I do not want him to get a complex over his poop. So far he seems to take it well. He simply asks, “What you doing?” To which I’ll respond, “Daddy’s pretending to be a seal.”

However, last night when I got home I was changing him (a pee, thank goodness) and he asked, “Puke macaroni and cheese?” I said, “Oh no, buddy. You don’t have to puke. That’s just Daddy’s bizarre hang up.”

He seemed fine with adding that to his growing list of weird stuff Daddy does that Mommy doesn’t do.