This is also one of those posts that my husband is going to kill me for when he reads it. Fortunately, he only checks out my blog on occasion, so I should live for at least a few days after writing this. After this article goes live, though, I'm basically on borrowed time. You'll miss me when I'm gone. But I have to share this with somebody, and by "somebody," I mean "all of the Internets."
My husband has a supernatural ability to tell when our son has pooped.
Unless I actually see actual poo, I wouldn't know that my son had a poopy diaper if he grabbed my face, looked into my eyes and said "Momma, there be crap in me pants!" I don't recognize any of the poo cues, and I certainly don't have the finely attuned sense of smell that my husband has. I swear it is a sixth sense.
My husband has turned poo detection into a fine art. He knows every poopoo face that my son has ever mustered. He knows that a raised eyebrow means that a poo is imminent. He tells me that the turned up Elvis lip means that the poo is being delivered to the diaper at that very moment. He swears that the crinkled nose and scrunched up eyes mean that the poo has landed, and boy is baby mad about it. And he knows the meaning behind every iteration of these faces. He's a regular poo-ologist.
I'd see all of those cues and think "aw, baby's making faces." Clearly, I have much to learn.
He hasn't just mastered visual detection, though. There is an audio element to this detection mastery, and I don't mean the sound of baby toots. My husband can identify every baby grunt and decipher its meaning. He can distinguish a poo grunt from a frustration grunt from a "I'm grunting because it is a new sound and I like to make new sounds" grunt. He's totally fluent in babygruntese. Me? I need a translator.
The most finely-tuned aspect of my husband's poo-dar is his ability to smell a dirty diaper from nearly any distance. I can be in the house, holding the baby in my arms and be totally oblivious to the diaper situation while my husband can be out in the yard, smoking a cigar, and he'll tell me that Jack's diaper needs changing. We can be in a room full of babies, each with a questionable diaper status, and my husband can determine whether it is Jack who needs to be changed. And he's infuriatingly right every single time.
So, if anyone has any idea on how to turn this remarkable talent into a marketable profit, let me know. We'll give you a cut of the earnings.
2 comments:
That was a cute blog my dear. I assure you that your not in anyway in trouble. BTW Jack needs to be changed.
Haha, great blog! And I love that your hubby commented, too. :)
My husband has a similar sense though it was because of his insane dislike for poo. I mean, heaving in a corner, plugging his nose type of dislike. So the silly boy got a job as a nurse aide, and the extreme is gone but he can still smell it a mile away. LOL
Let me think on the marketable profit idea... :)
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