The Magic Poop

As you can see from my expression in the video, crayons do not taste very good.  For some reason I just can't seem to quit biting little pieces off from the tip.  And take it from me- they take a long time to chew.  Any time that Daddy would attempt to remove them from my mouth, I'd bite his finger very hard.  Yes, fortunately these crayons are nontoxic.

I'd like to discuss something that just happened to me about a half-hour ago.  If you don't like potty talk then I wouldn't continue.  I apologize but I can't help it- it's a major part of my life.  First, a quick bit of information.  Ever since I really started eating big people food I've been having a little bit of trouble... well... you know... pushing the food out.  It really sucks.  Every morning I gasp and groan, and sometimes I need Mommy or Daddy to hold me so I can brace myself.  The past two weeks have been the worst.  My doctor, along with renowned scientists and nutritionists from around the world, has experimented with different foods, combination of foods, drinks, voodoo, and special formulas for me to try.  Things have been getting a little better, but not satisfactory... until this morning.  Whatever I ate yesterday sure worked today.  As Daddy changed my diaper, he verified that the contents of said diaper appeared how the doctor wanted.  Daddy got me all cleaned up, picked me up from the changing table, put me on the floor, and froze.  Somehow, what was thought to be a clean change, was and wasn't.  Everything was a go from the waist down.  However, the back of my neck and the entire back of my head was covered.  There was no link from diaper area to head area, yet there we were.  Daddy stripped me and threw me in the bath.  This is only the second bath Daddy has given me since I was a few months old.  It was fun but quick.  I don't think he was in the mood.  Sorry, Mommy, that I, at least for today, ruined the awesome outfit you dressed me in this morning.  Don't worry; I have some other clothes in which to strut around.

Anyway, the "scene" is being investigated right now.  We have a bunch of smart people with puzzled looks huddled around my changing table.  They seemed convinced that there must have been a second pooper.  Is my twin brother who lives in the basement getting his revenge?  Regardless, I feel great and now I'm going to ask them to leave.  After all this work (and relief), I'm tired and would like some privacy in my own room.

Good-nap.