This is a (useless) skill that few will ever be better at. Essentially, I’m a king at shoving (yes, that’s the right word) stuff into the cavity beneath the seat in my son’s pram. I’m all about finding the right-sized gap in this under-pram game and plugging it with tins of beans, baguettes, and shampoo.
If you were so inclined, you could spend the entire 9 months between conception and birth reading book after book, each of which ‘guarantees’ to give you the authoritative and complete lowdown on the whole baby ‘experience’.
They are, I am sure, a positive thing – I’m not a fan of these manuals myself, but that’s just personal preference; I think there’s a point where preparation can teeter into obsession. That said, there’s a topic that none of these baby books devotes so much as a word to:
THE POO FACE
It’s a funny thing: LIFE. Don’t you think?
We only really get any clue of what’s actually happening around us later – with the benefit of time and distance.
This is certainly true when it comes to parenting children. Now that I’m a dad of two, my perspective is COMPLETELY different to when I was at the coalface of childcare for an only child.
I’m constantly sniffing the air to see if a nappy needs changing or (God forbid) a leakage has occurred. They say that Queen thinks the world smells of fresh paint, which must be awful. Wet paint gives me a headache. For me, I’m sure the entire world smells of poo.
I have poo tinnitus.
I’m not sure if ‘poo tinnitus’ is a ‘thing’, but if it’s not it should be!