The worst kind of taco.

So, last night we were all hanging out in the front room, Madam was running around with Himself and Dude was lounging in my lap where he'd just taken a nap. We kept getting whiffs of a bad smell, and Himself mentioned it was something in the park, that he'd been smelling it for a couple of days. I assumed that's what it was as we had the windows open, but kept catching waves of this noxious reek and finally decided to check Dude's butt.

Yeah, it wasn't the park.

Himself got the cushion ready in the floor, got the nappy and wipes in place, and I handed Dude down. That's where shit got real. Himself merrily whipped Dude's trousers off.

Flinging.

Poo.

Everywhere.

It was all down his leg, up his back, everywhere. Then, due to the trouser whipping, it was all over Himself, all over the cushion, all over the floor. Everywhere. I had to carry Dude upstairs taco'd in the cushion, strip down the rest of him, deposit his pooey self in the tub and use the showerhead to blast the remnants down the drain. Several soapings later, he smelled significantly more boychild and less open cesspit.

We are glamorous, no?

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Lazy weekend.

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Random ramblings from the Texan in London.

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