Having a crap day.
Discussion
Literally.
Zep child #2 running a temp. Nursery won't have 'im.
Mrs Zep has to go to work to find out whether she's a confirmed redundancy so I'm stuck at home.
Incident 1
Bad smell starts wafting up from 1yr old son. Nothing unusual there. Take him upstairs to scrape poo off his gonads and install new nappy. But he's done his special trick of pooing round a corner, out the side of the nappy and into the trouser leg. Never mind. Change of breeks and we're sorted. Leave s
t-caked trousers for Mrs Zep later.
Anyway, back downstairs, suddenly realise that the little fecker also dropped some splodge out of his trouser leg as I was taking him upstairs. How do I know? Because there's a small brown pile of it with a man sized footprint (my footprint) through the middle. And a consequent trail of brown footprints going up the stair carpet.
Incident 2
After some floor scrubbing, time for a shower. Leave little Zep to toddle around happily. But things go quiet. Too quiet. Investigating, I see the little fecker has delved into the nappy bin. Fished out the last nappy and opened it up like a bag of chips. Brown chips. Oh my God.
Incident 3
Back on track. Showered, dressed, sorted. Bring down a basket of dirty washing. Doorbell. Its the postman with a parcel. He always looks vaguely disgusted when I open the door. Often with good reason. -My dressing gown is a bit short and has seen better days. Anyway, exchange pleasantries -he seems quite cheerful this morning, until he pauses and stares at my son who has toddled up. Wearing a pair of his Mum's pre-worn knickers as a balaclava.
I think I'm going to have a can of lager for elevenses.
Zep child #2 running a temp. Nursery won't have 'im.
Mrs Zep has to go to work to find out whether she's a confirmed redundancy so I'm stuck at home.
Incident 1
Bad smell starts wafting up from 1yr old son. Nothing unusual there. Take him upstairs to scrape poo off his gonads and install new nappy. But he's done his special trick of pooing round a corner, out the side of the nappy and into the trouser leg. Never mind. Change of breeks and we're sorted. Leave s
t-caked trousers for Mrs Zep later.Anyway, back downstairs, suddenly realise that the little fecker also dropped some splodge out of his trouser leg as I was taking him upstairs. How do I know? Because there's a small brown pile of it with a man sized footprint (my footprint) through the middle. And a consequent trail of brown footprints going up the stair carpet.
Incident 2
After some floor scrubbing, time for a shower. Leave little Zep to toddle around happily. But things go quiet. Too quiet. Investigating, I see the little fecker has delved into the nappy bin. Fished out the last nappy and opened it up like a bag of chips. Brown chips. Oh my God.
Incident 3
Back on track. Showered, dressed, sorted. Bring down a basket of dirty washing. Doorbell. Its the postman with a parcel. He always looks vaguely disgusted when I open the door. Often with good reason. -My dressing gown is a bit short and has seen better days. Anyway, exchange pleasantries -he seems quite cheerful this morning, until he pauses and stares at my son who has toddled up. Wearing a pair of his Mum's pre-worn knickers as a balaclava.
I think I'm going to have a can of lager for elevenses.
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Go for it, mate. It won't make the day any better. But at least you won't care as much... 



