A gap in communication is one of those things that vary in acceptance depending on the relationship. I can go for a long time without talking to a State Trooper and it doesn't bother me. If I go a few hours without talking to Christy, then I lose my bearings a little. I don't know where this blog ranks in those standings, but I think by any measure it's been too long.
Some of you may well ask why we have abandoned our post (tee hee, pun intended), and some of you may not have noticed at all. There is no one reason why the spigot of hilarity and reality was squelched - it's the conspiracy of the mundane. Everything in life can pile up on you at times, right? For us, the pile consists mostly of feces with some mental illness sprinkled on top.
Josiah occasionally poops in the yard. Yes, from time to time the unthinkable becomes reality. I actually prefer the carport poop to the grass by the fence poop, but opinions will vary. Christy will likely say that the grass provides a natural mechanism to bio-degradation, but I like to know where poop is in relation to my feet, and therefore prefer the concrete. The tricky one is the traveler. This is a road-trip of a poop that may start in the shady environs of the carport but then move through the driveway and end by the swing set.
Why do we put up with it? Why don't we do something? Well, what? After you've chased him down and diapered him for the umpteenth time, you start to feel like a Republican Congressman and just give up. You tell yourself that he pooped earlier and maybe you'll get lucky. Such delusion. You become dulled by his repetitious activity and think he won't deviate. A fool's paradise. Then he gets still all at once and it's all over but the Clorox.
Listen closely, my beloved. He was gonna die. You heard me, the doctors at the prestigious university medical center had given us a small chance at him surviving. Yes, we had heard the same thing about his brother Jack a few years before, but one is not bold in these matters. He was in a tight spot, medically speaking. We were terrified. We trusted God. We prayed that our little boy not escape our grasp as soon as he fell into it. Just let him live, Lord. And he lived. And he is still living! He's a fruitcake with nuts for icing, but he's ours and he's an answer to prayer.
So I put the question to any of you with precious little ones that are the apple of your eye. Would you rather them be snatched from your life or poop in your yard? I think I know the answer.
*For those parents looking for tips on how to prevent fecal smearing, check out our post entitled Poo Diggers. These outfits have been tremendously helpful, but, in the heat of the summer, Josiah insists on stripping when outside. And for NOW....it's not worth the meltdown.