For the past three years, I have been through a lot of shit, but nothing beat tonight’s shit. After dinner at Red Hot & Blue, I took Dao upstairs for a bath. Suddenly the shit hit me. My head started to pound and I was damn near vomited. If I were stuck in a box with that shit, I would have die.
Something strange about the shit. It was not stinky. It had a light fragrance like someone was putting on some fucked-up, expired cologne. Not sure what he was eaten, but that was the worse shit ever. Even grandpa couldn’t tolerate it. I had to stop breathing as I was taking off his diaper. I was suspecting that he pooped a lot so I told him, “you pooped a lot.” Usually when he looked into it he would agree, “yes, I pooped a lot.” Tonight, however, he said, “I only pooped small ones.” He only pooped a few marble-size balls, but somehow they were killers. For a few minutes, I could understand why American can’t stand the smell of the durian.
Three-year-old must be the most terrible age. Not only their behavior is bad, their shit is also the worst. I told my wife about it and her reply was, “And you think your shit doesn’t smell?” See, you can’t even tell your wife this kind of shit, but that’s good thing that I have a blog. I can rant about shit all I want. I probably lose all my readers after this stinking post, but I can’t help it.
Then again no matter how awful his shit smells or how irritate his attitude gets, I still got mad love for my boy. This is what I called true love. You have to love everything about him even his shit.