A giant sh*t streak

Let’s do some quick math. Your average child will be in nappies for 3 years roughly. Let’s say they defecate once daily. That’s over a 1000 dirty nappies you’ll have to deal with. We’ve got two kids, so double that. 2000 bundles of multi-coloured, often loosely textured, always warm, excrement. Of all the jobs you have to swallow as a parent, chasing shit out the crevices of your child’s down below, ranks fittingly, at the bottom. Firstly, there’s the eye stinging perfume of the hideous matter. Mouth breathing helps, but I can never quite get shake the idea that I’m eating tiny particles of airborne turd. Then, there’s the emptying of the nappy bin. So plain and innocent from the outside. But housing a grotesque trash bag necklace of 2 and a half week old faeces, that must be carried through the house at arm’s length, like a leper’s jacket. And not forgetting the permanent spectre of gastro enteritis. Picked up from a micron of poo, that quietly sought refuge under your finger nail. A horrid gift you’ll unwrap in about 12 hours and enjoy for the next 72. But let’s crunch some more math. Our youngest is 5 weeks short of three. That’s about 40 or so nappies left for us to process. 20 each, if my wife and I, share the proverbial load. A quite manageable of number of number 2s really. I might even get a little nostalgic about the very last change. Fight with my wife over who gets to do it. Tear up a little at the prospect of not changing another nappy. At least, until I’m the helpless dribbler sluicing my guts into one.