Brownie Points - Literally

Today has been a very funny day. I have cried with laughter twice and its better than any tonic I know.

The first time was when I was changing “The babies” nappy in the toilets of a local soft play area. Camster decided to be his everso useful little self and tsteal the clean nappy from the changing table. With a nervous laugh I requested that he give it back. His response was a loud giggle and then he turned on his heels and ran out of the toilet. I waited a few seconds for him to come back. I looked out of the toilet, and saw him running away at top speed, back to our pram, which was located at the other side of the complex. As I had thrown Lotties previous nappy in the bin, I was faced with having to carry her semi naked back to the pram and hope she did not pee or poo on me during the journey. I decided not to look around to check other mothers reactions to my Olympic paced waddle back to our pram.

My luck held out and I believe brownie points are due to me for being able to put a nappy on her one handed, sitting upright, whilst fending Camster off from hitting her ( having told the boy off, his logic dictates, “is I get told off, someone else gets hit”!). It’s hard telling the boy off, and maintaining a serious face and composure when all I wanted to do was laugh. I like the verve of the boy.

Sometime later my hubby is bouncing our darling daughter on his knee when I notice a dark patch on his trousers. A quick check reveals our daughter is the source of patch. Casually remind him its his turn to change the nappy and then quickly start making myself look busy in the kitchen!

The next thing I hear is Stuart wailing “there is sh*t everywhere” who put the nappy on? (Er, maybe I should now have my brownie points deducted …..?!!!!)

I run in with Camster to take a look at all the commotion. I decide that the best strategy is to linger in the background and give useful advice.

Stuart is on the floor of Camerons bedroom with soiled wipes everywhere. Cameron opts to take a closer look and starts heaving. Stuart tries to steer him towards throwing up on the laminate floor, the poor boy veers off course and runs through the soiled wipes. There is now mustard colour textured poo mushed into the carpet. Cameron lifts his foot up and says oh oh. At this stage I am laughing so much at the scene in front of me I am unable to utter a word of encouragement or advice. I vaguely hear Stuart bemoan the fact that the house stinks of poo and words such as “…taking ages to clean up” come and go. I inform Stuart simply that unless he wants me to pee myself from laughter, and thus make the house even more stinky, I am going to sit this one out!