Nappy Time

Unlike last time, this entry will most certainly not be fluffy in the slightest.

In fact this entry will be Exhibit A in the trial of My Horrible Parents vs Teenage Little Miss K. Reason Numero Uno of 'Why My Parents Hate Me And Want To Deliberately Embarrass Me At Every Opportunity'. Worse than those baby photos showing ample evidence of her gender that we will bring out to horrify future boyfriends. Oh yes. It's my job, as her father, to do this.

How can I put this delicately? Despite a very effective digestion and a healthy diet, Little Miss K can be a little bit vocal during her evening evacuations. And when I say 'a little bit vocal'... Imagine a woman bearing down during the latter stages of labour. Or maybe a bear on heat during mating season. A whale communicating with their mate across sixty miles of open ocean, perhaps? My God, she is noisy. Little Miss K has an exhibitionist streak three miles wide; she is having a poo and she is proud.

This all started when the weather started to improve in May. Little Miss really enjoys pottering about in the garden. On one particular spring evening the gentle breeze and late afternoon sun must have been conducive to her bowel movements, so rather than toddle back indoors to do her thing she held onto one of the pergola uprights and let rip. Literally. Imagine her little red face scrunched up in intense concentration. Her knuckles white from her tight grip on the pergola. Finally the coup de grâce: the relief on her face, followed by a grin and the announcement 'NAPPY TIME!'.

We must have rushed outside to see what all the fuss was about. A tiny light bulb probably lit above her head and she thought a little thought. To wit: 'This is what I must do if I want my nappy changed now!'.

She is showing no signs of stopping this, despite our active discouragement. We have to carefully time our return from days out to ensure that she doesn't happen when we are in public. However we can't always control who hears her nightly performance.

One time during the hot spell in July, next door were having a very civilised barbeque in their garden. Over the fence came the sounds of tinkling glasses, cutlery on plates and polite conversation. Little Miss was playing in our garden digging holes in the mud and gravel with her little spade and bucket. Then, her moment arrived. It lasted five minutes. Five, long, excruciatingly embarrassing, mortifying minutes. When the 'NAPPY TIME!' all clear was sounded, there was the sound of cutlery being picked up again and giggles.

Oh dear.