Ok, this is how it all started.
We go through two packages of baby wipes a week during the school year. The school uses them to wipe hands and wheelchair trays and, of course, butts. When school is out we only go through one, but Husband (who does all grocery shopping) kept buying two. This in turn created an abundance of baby wipes. So after unloading the groceries and stacking two more packages onto the already abundant pile I turned to husband and said, "Are we stocking up for the Poopocolaypse?" Of course this brought much mirth and merriment to...well...to me. I amuse myself greatly.
Well the aforementioned Poopocalypse has taken on a life of it's own. Things such as this are being overheard on a daily basis:
"Do you smell that?"
"Oooh, I think it's an impending sign of the Poopocalypse."
"Where is (insert random family name here)?
"I'm pretty sure he/she's in the bathroom preparing for the Poopocalypse."
Or just random pronunciations at awkward times such as:
"REPENT-FOR THE POOPOCALYPSE IS NIE!"
So, yeah, we are that weird.
On another note that is eerily similar...
Cy Twombly died a few weeks ago. Our last name is Twombly and I've been told that my husband's family is related way-way-way back. If you don't know Cy Twombly, well you're out of luck. He's dead.
What? Too soon? Anyway he was a very successful abstract artist known for work such as this...
Yeah, I don't get it either. Anyway, with the heat we sometimes put boys to bed with just a diaper and sometimes they get tired of waiting for us to get to them in a timely fashion and take things into their own hands. The day of Cy's death, such an occurence presented itself and as I put the afflicted boy in the tub I hollered to Husband to please take care of the bed....walls....floor
Husband: "Is it bad?"
Me: "Well I think Uncle Cy left Matty his artistic propensity...So there's that...yay!"
Again, we are that weird.
Thank you for reading an entire post about poop. Oddly, it's not my first....
Why don't I have thousands of readers?
Smiles from the farm,