Lately, I’ve felt like either the Poopy Police. My son, Aidan, is just over nine months old. He stands on his own. He crawls everywhere I let him and sometimes places I don’t. I take out the dog, I clean the litter box, and I change Aidan’s diapers. I have become a bit obsessed with washing my hands as of late to keep things a bit more sanitary around here. I seem to have developed a special skill though. Usually, I can tell if someone has pooped just by sniffing the air. Example…. Here I am in the bedroom minding my own business, when in wafts an invisible cloud of odor that permeates my nostrils. It’s uncanny. The dog could have a gas attack in the living room and I’d smell it before I get out of the car to come into the house. Well, maybe not like that but you get the point. Maybe it’s just a daddy thing. Because mommy, she still has to lift Aidan up and smell his trousers most of the time before she knows for sure.
Today, I am sick with a cold and trying to let Aidan hang out in his playpen most of the day so that I don’t get him sick too.
