Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Party Pooper

The happiest I've ever seen my daughter was when her little brother took a shit on the playroom floor during a dinner party at our house a couple of years ago. Well, I suppose to call it a shit (singular) is not exactly accurate. Technically, it was multiple little pieces of shit sprinkled like deer scat across the carpet. Paige came bounding up the stairs two at a time, cheeks flushed, eyes aglow, beaming, and all-around barely able to contain herself. "MOM!" she squealed with glee, as if poised to report her nomination for the Nobel Prize in theoretical quantum physics: "Isaac. Just. Pooped. On. The. FLOOOOOOOR!" She clapped her hands and jumped up and down a few times. 

I hadn't seen her this excited since I suggested that I might--MIGHT--let her bring her American Girl Doll to that total Ponzi-scheme racket of an American Girl Doll "salon" and/or buy her a matching dress and/or possibly a retainer for her doll's "teeth." (Side rant: only in America do plastic dolls have access to expensive orthodontia). She was even happier than the time she got to eat shave ice in Alaska (see photo, inset). 

Anyhoo, I hurried downstairs and sure enough, there stood Isaac, wide-eyed at the end of a long trail of turds. A whiff of shit found its way to my nostrils, and like Marcel Proust in the famous "episode of the Madeleine" (See, Proust, Marcel, Remembrances of Things Past, 1913-1927, a novel in seven volumes), I was instantly transported down memory lane to all the parties I've resented in my life. I hadn't wanted a birthday party since age seven, but was sometimes forced to have them anyway. I didn't want a wedding, so I didn't have one. And my worst nightmare of all: the office party where you're required to dress up and/or bring things and/or sign cards and/or make things instead of just being left alone to work in peace. 

I snapped to attention just in time to grab a wet rag and a plastic shovel before Isaac began collecting feces with his bare hands in an attempt to rectify his obvious party foul. Yeah I'll admit it, I'm kind of a party pooper. But Isaac took party pooping to a whole other level that night.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.