What a Load of Crap

When I woke up this morning I noticed a sticker in the shape of a star on my palm. I closed my eyes and retraced my steps for the previous evening. Oh yes – Tan and Angie’s next door. Tan’s parents had arrived and we’d gone over to see them. As usual we were delayed in returning home by copious amounts of wine and great conversation. But what was the conversation ?

I remember we spoke about the glorious orange moon we had last night and Tan had a go at me for being a right-winger (not football but politics). Julie told the others about her day at the beach but there was something more – what was it ?

Ah yes – crap ! My sticker should have given me a clue. I went to the toilet in Angie’s and as I sat there having a wee-wee (or pee-pee as they call it in France) I saw little Violet’s toilet training stickers. By the way I should point out that I always sit down for a wee – it’s cleaner, easier, more relaxing and much more refined and you never know what else might come along ! Anyway, as I had sat down on the loo, had flushed and had washed my hands, I was due a potty training sticker so I took one and stuck it on my palm – don’t know why but it must’ve had something to do with the wine !

Anyway, somebody spotted the sticker (I think it was Anna – Angie’s sister) and they were off, telling everyone in gruesome detail how much poo their child does, what colour and consistency it has and how the flies just love it ! I tried to curtail this awful conversation but then Angie started talking about Violet’s toilet training exercises and the results in extraordinary detail. And all this just after we’d been served a delicious dessert !

I managed to get Angie off the subject but then Julie started and before you know it all three mothers were comparing notes about their respective children’s faecal matter. How gross ! There were actually four mothers including Tan’s but thankfully she revealed nothing about Tan’s early bodily functions. That would have been the last straw. Now I'm 57, have brought up between 3 and 5 children depending on what rules you use and have therefore been exposed to the stench, look and feel of a dirty baby's nappy....but I dont need to discuss it over dinner ! Thank God we weren't having chocolate mousse !

For whatever reason I'm a bit sqeamish about these things and once had to don a set of marigolds and a divers mask when changing my last nappy and thankfully that was about 8 years ago. Today I'd probably call the Pompiers. Honestly, when confronted with a baby in my care who smells less than fragrant I panic then peuk. That's why I've only ever changed two dirty nappies in my life. Clean ones or wet ones are ok but the others - yuk !

And so the discussion went on and on. Each nappy was dirtier and smellier than the last - they were trying to outdo each other now. 'Oh you should have seen Olivia's one the the other day' said Anna. 'Nah' said Angie in her Floridian drawl, 'Violet's are the worst ever'. What does a sensitive guy like me do in a situation like this ? The only way to get through the evening was to drink more wine which had absolutely nothing to do with me falling down the stairs and rolling about in the lavender. Another memorable night next door and I’ve got a sticker to prove it !