Diaper Drama!

I have been told by my mother that I have a fantastic memory. Yes, I can remember back when I was in diapers living in our first house in West Layton. So be warned that the following story is my first childhood memory and it contains graphic situations that may not be suitable for all ages.


My two year old self had just awoke on a Sunday morning to the most horrible feeling I can ever remember having, the icky feeling of a huge TURD in my diaper!
I remember thinking how uncomfortable it was to have this foreign, stinky, lump stuck to the bottom of my baby bum bum and I wanted nothing more than to have this object removed right away.

So I crawled out of my crib, a new talent I had just recently mastered and one that I was very proud of, and went searching for those people that feed me and take away my turds. To my disappointment, the only person I could find was the bald one and he was asleep in the big bed, snoring.

"Great," I thought to myself, "Where is the pretty one that I like best? I know she would take my turd away...if I could just find her!"

So I hobbled into the living room with my blanky dragging behind me in search of the pretty one, but my heart sunk to the floor as I realized I was alone, alone with the bald one. I hobbled to the window in our front room to peer outside and I remember the biggest feeling of relief came over me at what my eyes had seen.

The pretty one, with her red dress blowing in the wind, was walking toward the house. Trailing beside her was that other small person who was always around, the one who would constantly fight with me over the pretty one's attention. I saw him wearing his diamond print church vest at which point I realized they were walking home from that place. That place where I was able to color with my crayons and eat cheerios while my parents sat next to me on the bench listening to some loud voice saying things that I didn't care to understand.

I was so overjoyed at the thought that soon I would be turd free and could go on with my daily routine of chewing on those delicious rubber keys and flipping through my books in my own little private corner of the front room.

Yes, I would be free.

Free until the next brown intrusion came along.