TMI Thursday: When the shit hits the… me, actually

It’s TMI Thursday again…

The tradition of TMI Thursdays is the brainchild of LiLu at livitluvit.com. It is typically introduced as follows: ***Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!***

Read on at your own risk.

There are certain things one can happily go through life without ever experiencing. This list of course varies from person to person, but one of the entries on my list would have been “being crapped on by another human being”.

Yes, I said “would have been”.

A number of years ago, we were babysitting a six-month-old baby (whom I shall refer to as N) while his parents dealt with a family emergency. L was not even a twinkle in my left bollock at this point, but nevertheless there was the notion that this could be good practice for the eventual.

Things had been going pretty well, and I decided at one point to give N a bath. Wanting to of course be extremely careful, since babies are fragile things, I determined that the best way to ensure safety, correct temperature and the like would be to just get in the bath with him.

Which I did. It worked pretty well. Nice clean baby. Until…

For those who don’t know it, six-month-old babies typically have the bowel control normally associated with the aftermath of fifteen beers and a potent curry. N  was no exception to this rule.

I had never been shat on before other than in a figurative sense.

I called out to D with a somewhat strident request to remove the infant from my vicinity so that I could get myself cleaned up. Of course, she was greatly amused by the scene before her.

*sigh*

I am older now, and wiser. When L gets baths, I kneel beside the tub.