Poop, Poo, Doodies

When I was younger and still very awkward, I used to talk about poo because I thought it was funny. You know like the friends episode where Chandler thinks duties is funny. That was me. "He said doodies" snicker, laugh, snort. I was not much of a lady then. I'm not so sure I'm much of one now, but I have more 'lady-like' moments now. Even though I still think doodies is funny.

Now that I have a child, I find that the majority of conversations my husband and I have are about poo.
"Did she have a poop today?"
"How many times did she poo today?"
"What did it look like?"
"What was the consistency?"
"Was it extra stinky just for you?"
"How many wipes did it take?"
"Did it require a wardrobe change?"

Who knew death could come out of a baby's butt and instill such pain on you, while at the same time producing such laughter from her? She thinks putting us through such agony is hilarious. And so it makes sense now. Doodies is funny from birth. It doesn't stop being funny to you until you have to change exploding, stinky diapers. But at that moment the humor is passed on to the next generation. And so poop will always be funny.

That said it doesn't change the fact that my husband and I don't have much else to talk about. Not that we don't talk about other things. Other topics just don't seem to dominate our conversations anymore. Is that a sign of an old married couple? I suppose. But it sure is fun to talk about poo and especially, for me, if she had an extra stinky poo just for him. It brings joy to my soul to know I am not be the only one changing extra stinky, messy diapers.