Talking crap…

This brings us nicely onto our first topic of discussion; which is shit…

I’m not saying that the topic I’m writing about is rubbish, I’m talking actual feacial matter. The human kind.

I apologise for the bluntness of this post, I think I’m a little bit in shock (or maybe its just the fumes), and I just can’t bring myself to sugar coat it…oh god…the imagery…sorry! Stop reading now if you’re squeamish!

did tell you I was underpaid!

This morning (EDIT: not this morning, see earlier postscripts), I woke up to an actual indoor farmyard. Old McDonald had moved in, unpacked his suitcases and set up the pig pens. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before. There was so much matter, shall we call it, in the baby’s nappy, I could have made myself a fortune at Cash for Gold (yes, there is one here).

At this point in time, he could literally shit the Taj Mahal and I wouldn’t be surprised.

The smell was one thing, but the fact that I actually had to change this nappy was a whole other kettle of fish. If you are planning on being an Au Pair to a baby, consider this very carefully!

It took an entire morning with two doors and a window open to clear the air. Thank god we’re here in Laredo, in the 30-40 degree heat of Benicassim it would have spelled instant death.

 If that wasn’t enough, later that day I had two more matter related incidents with the little girl…

The first; she barged in on me in the bathroom (luckily I was just washing my hands), sat on the toilet and then proceeded to announce “tengo muchas cacitas”, read: “I have lots of poo” and pull a face like the angry hulk.

The second; after a long morning at the beach, I showered her and washed her hair. After towelling her dry, she bent over and told me she had sand in her bum…

…which I had to wipe out…

Now I don’t know what the appropriate reaction to this should be. I am of the the keep calm and carry on kind, and only let it bother me mildly, I soldiered on through, but I don’t know if I should actually have been horrified. I know for one that I have friends that would have been running for the hills at the first whiff of any human substances (and there were many more I had to deal with, read: sick, wee….). Have I forever lost any claim to glamour?

What do you think?

P.S. Handy hint: If, while at a park, playground or any other public space, the baby in your care goes suspiciously quiet and is standing still, straddling a part of the swing structure and looking pensive, he is shitting. Just putting that out there.

And if the four year old tells you she needs to wee, she means now, her body has yet to provide her with the gift of forewarning…

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