The result of cleaning up faecal matter every day for four years is olfactory havoc. This morning as I chucked a few toys in the twins' room I wandered through a mist of minute shit particles. Sniffing, I attempted to locate the offending nuggets whilst discerning from the smell whether I would be dealing with a dry pile of pebbles or a carpet clinging sludge. The aromatic trail led me under twin1's bed where I found a cloud of baby wipes wafting their arse cleansing chemicals into the air. I looked around for anything more sinister. Nothing. The rush of relief was marred by the jolt of realising I now find it impossible to distinguish between the smell of baby wipes and shit. To be fair, shit always smells like shit. But now baby wipes smell of shit too.
No comments:
Post a Comment
I love reading your comments, thanks for taking the time to make them