Code Brown! Repeat: Code Brown!

A few weeks ago I read a brilliant post by Hello Archie “When Poo Gets The Best Of You”, and Oh how I did nod and chuckle to my smug little self.

Yeah well, Karma is a b!tch…

Image of cartoon boy looking cheeky

…What are you up to? I cautiously shout.
Whilst wrestling my battered old make up bag out.

The boy hears this rustle and comes bounding in,
Climbs onto the duvet to rummage within.

But hang on a moment… I pause, squint and frown.

What the hell is that?

… and why is it brown?

A few possibilities swim round my head,
The last of them being: He’s shat on my bed!

I freeze for a minute and blink once or twice,
Wracking my brain for some form of advice.

Then hoist the young poop machine into the air,
Whilst trying to avoid getting turd everywhere.

He’s plonked in the bath. Right.
Okay then.
What now?
I use my right elbow to sweep hair from brow.

The boy is disgruntled, his patience worn thin.
With no one to help me.
I just get stuck in.

Down come the trousers and up goes his top.
The tot disapproves with a huge screeching strop.

Despite being careful it’s now in his hair,
And all down his legs with great artistic flair.

“OK to the shower!” I hysterically laugh,
Whilst leaving both PJs and poo in the bath.

I shout for some wipes to help tame all the shit.
… Miss Tot wanders in with a nail grooming kit?

Lord Poo Pants protests as I shower him down,
Hosing away any traces of brown.

Then he’s wrapped in a towel as my blood pressure calms.
Despite all the screaming and flailing of arms.

“I’ll just get a wipe!” I can hear Miss Tot cry.
“DON’T TOUCH IT! I’ll sort it as soon as he’s dry!”

“But Mummy he’s done some on Mummy’s bed too!”

*pause while this sinks in*

“I know it’s on my bed.
…Why did you say TOO!?”

I regain composure and put the boy down.
Then nervously seek out Miss Tot with a frown.

“WHAT IN GOD’S NAME IS THIS CRAP-SCENE FROM HELL?”
There’s poo on her bed and 3 teddies as well.

So just to be sure and prevent any doubt,
I check The Boy’s bedroom.
Then try not to shout.

“THERE’S POO ON THE CARPET!” I frantically howl.
We have shit on 3 duvets, the bath and a towel.

The shower’s a grizzly chaotic scene,
3 teddies have seen things they shouldn’t have seen!

I’m somewhat perturbed and I find it quite strange,
That an infant of 2 has such impressive range!?

He grins with great pride. He was really on form,
To rustle up such a fantastic shit storm!

And just if this wasn’t enough of a state.
It’s nursery day – and we’re now running late.

I still have two offspring that need to be fed,
So down to the kitchen they’re hustled and led.

Two cereal bowls are haphazardly served,
While I dash back to clean… leaving both unobserved.

*face palm*

My hand hasn’t quite reached the shower room door,
When the big one shouts up “All his food’s on the floor!”

I race back downstairs – What the bugger is this?
You have got to be kidding or taking the piss!?

Image shows a kitchen table and chair with milk and cereal spilled all over and dripping off the chair.

Not quite yet fulfilled, bless his cute shitty pants.
He’s krispied my kitchen.
You know – just for bants’.

…I do not have favourites, as none of us do.
But today little sunshine – today – it’s not you!

I’ve written today off as traumatic farce ,
The incredible antics of Lord shitty arse.

But we each shall have days where the shit hits the fan,
So we just have to wipe it the best that we can!

************

Kaye lovely – thank you for the inspiration for this rhyme and for passing on the poo baton. Today I am proud to say that the “Poo most definitely got the best of me!”

This post was originally published at Rhyming With Wine. More from the blog can be found here!

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