Under Observation

While it would normally only be necessary in hospital and for the old and incontinent, our home is outfitted with a pair of toilets sporting observation decks – a.k.a. poop decks. And with toilet training for Her¹ underway, the shit shelf’s contents have become a new daily source of entertainment.

Look, it’s a butterfly.
It looks like an ice cream cone.

What I’d like to say is, “No honey, it’s your poop.” I’ll save you from having to see the pictures (I don’t have any, anyhow), but the problem is, the girl is right. It didn’t take the eye of a MoMA curator to see that the toilet troopers did resemble a butterfly one day and an ice cream cone (two scoops of chocolate) the next.

Stay tuned to see what lands tomorrow.

UPDATE:: Sunday, January 24, 2010

FYI: Today it was a starfish.

Thanks to Random McRandomhead for the picture.

You’re kidding, right?

Here’s the first installment in a series that will probably grow to saga-like length as preparation for a trip the States continues.
(Leave your suggestions for future editions in the comments.)

Maybe this shouldn’t surprise me anymore, but scanning through the 324 comments made me a little nauseous.

I’m not sure how it happened, but Her¹ and Her²‘s asses have both suffered through non-heated wipes.

I’m a bad father.

Don’t take my medical advice, ever.

I’ve never been accused of being overly optimistic. Her⁰ has fairly regularly accused me of exactly the opposite. It’s even been a long-held belief of mine that optimists simply the imagination to conceive just how bad things can get.

Except when it comes to the health — especially of her¹ and her². Then, for some reason, my proud pessimist takes a back seat.

They’re kids, they’ll spring back. What could be wrong with them? She just saw the doctor two days ago, why do you want to go back now?

Those are just some of the lines I’ve muttered recently concerning the two hers. In the first case it turned out to be a virus and an ear infection requiring antibiotics. In the second it was re-hospitalization (her² had been released less than 24 hours earlier) and treatment with IV, an oxygen tank and face masks for everyone who enters the room.

And don’t be fooled into thinking that I’m only this way with the ankle-biter set. My malpractice experience goes back a couple of years. Best other example included the line: Don’t worry. Give it a little time and it’ll take care of itself.

The problem ended with a doctor saying, You should have come in as soon as you noticed something. And could have ended with my (beautiful) wife’s face permanently disfigured.

Thanks Michael Flick for the 1st picture.