A while ago my 18-month old daughter (Gurgle) announced 'farty-poos!' just as I was changing her, and then let rip a burst of explosive diarrhea that wrote-off a couple of items of furniture and gave me a thorough appreciation of the phrase 'I will be dipped in shit'. This event also expanded her vocabulary, though people usually manage to convince themselves the angelic-looking child said "fork!", but I digress:
Tonight, just as I was changing her and breathing the traditional sigh of relief at finding an empty nappy, out she comes with the dread phrase "farty-poos!" - total panic ! I quickly refasten the nappy, grab her off the floor and head rapidly for the bathroom.
She-who-can't-be-ignored senses something's up and bursts into the hall with a cry of "What's wrong?"
"Farty-poos!" I shout. "Farty-poos!" Gurgle echoes. I optimistically hold Gurgle out to mummy, but she is already making good her retreat and closes the door on a sniggered "Your turn!". Fine. To the bathroom. Quickly.
Into the shower cubicle goes Gurgle, off comes my t-shirt and after a short but desperate struggle my pony-tail is subdued and safely hair-clipped out of the way. I approach the beast from behind the shower-curtain. . . she giggles. . . I loosen one side of the nappy. . . she giggles. . . I loosen the other side. . . Nothing. Not a sausage.
"You said farty-poos, you little rat! When poo ? Poo now ? Poo later ? When ? When, dammit ?"
She tenses - I retreat - there is a tiny squeak, the sound of a mouse farting - "Fart gone daddy. All gone" and then she bursts into laughter. The cunning little rat-bag was winding me up. . .
(from cix:noticeboard (Oct 2000))