The Poo-splosion

Good afternoon everyone, and welcome back to A.P Writing! I’ve written a little short story for you all. This is a story for all the parents out there who have had to deal with a poo-splosion when changing their child’s nappy. I hope this story will make you smile and possibly even laugh. It will certainly show you that not all aspects of parenthood are glamourous. Enjoy folks, and let me know what you think.

It was hard to tell how early Ezra had woken him, but a dewy, white light was beginning to creep in through the windows. Too early, Adam thought glumly to himself; he was slouched in a chair opposite the windows, his dishevelled black hair a mess. Last night had been another to forget, sleep nothing more than wishful thinking. The sleepless nights had started melding into one of late, for Ezra’s night-time routine had completely disappeared. Not that anyone could’ve guessed, Ezra’s luscious blue eyes were transfixed on his favourite teddy, all tiredness long gone from his delicate body. He’d just had his breakfast, and the blueberry fruit pouch remnants were splattered all over the front of his vest. A loud, vibrant TV show was playing in the background. The multitude of colours meaning it could be only one thing, a children’s programme. Adam hated this particular show, especially at the early hour he was being forced to watch it. Ezra, however, was finding it hilarious. He chuckled away to himself like only a baby can, oblivious to everything around him.

The latch clacked down and suddenly his blond head whirled to look up at his mother, Chantelle. She’d just closed the stairgate and was making her way into the living room. Judging by the sore, puffy look of her eyes, she was just as exhausted as Adam. After trying valiantly to rub the earliness from her face, Chantelle eventually gave up, deciding that the best place for her was also on the chair. “How are you feeling babe?”, Adam asked, already knowing the answer but ready anyway. “Tired”. He knew better than to continue the conversation. Chantelle, like most parents, needed time to adjust to the youth of the hour. Ezra had started launching toys from his toy box across the front room, a cheeky giggle accompanying every chuck. He caught his mother’s eyes then, and she smiled. “So, why did you keep mummy and daddy up all night then?”, she chided as Adam pulled an accusing look towards his son as well. If Ezra had felt any regret though, it certainly didn’t show. Instead he showed off his two newly grown bottom teeth, all smile and chuckles again. “I’m going to make breakfast”, Adam announced suddenly, sauntering up from the sofa, unlatching the gate and closing it behind him.

When he returned, it was with a bowl full of cornflakes. So full was the bowl that some of the golden clusters cascaded over the side and onto the floor. Ezra hadn’t noticed his return, which was strange; the boy never missed a trick. “I gave him that new breakfast pouch we bought the other day. He seemed to enjoy it, but has been farting all morning though”. Chantelle’s smile was one full of sarcasm, “Oh I can see that”, she replied, “just look at the state of his top”. In her defence, he had forgotten to put a bib on Ezra, again. A splotchy blue mess of blueberry flavoured breakfast pouch now encased his formally clean, white, dinosaur pyjama top.

As his parent’s talk faded into insignificance, Ezra started, ears pricking to attention. His tummy gurgled suddenly as he rolled from back to front in order to sit up. His dad’s voice was somehow unexpected, and then Ezra knew why. The gate hadn’t clacked shut. Turning quickly while another gurgle hit his belly, pure glee spread across Ezra’s face. Straight in-front of him, something unimaginable had happened. The stairgate stood wide open; oh, daddy will be angry when he realises thought Ezra mischievously. Returning to his stomach, Ezra hatched a hasty plan for escape. He’d always wanted to explore the flat away from mummy and daddy’s watchful eyes, but never until now had such an opportunity so readily presented itself. Coyly, and with as much innocence as he could muster, Ezra inched forward. An overturned teddy with flappy ears, recently discarded from his toy box, sat halfway between the stairgate and where he lay. If I can just get to the teddy without mummy or daddy noticing, I might be able to get out through the stairgate as well. Excitement filled him then, even when another unexplained rumble from within tried to dampen his spirit. Chantelle, still half asleep on the sofa, and Adam, who was stuffing his face full of cornflakes, were oblivious to their son’s plan of escape.

So, without wasting a second, Ezra rose onto his knees and plodded forward, trying his best to look casual. Within four long limbed movements he’d reached his teddy and snuggled into it; both mummy and daddy, to his relief, hadn’t noticed a thing. Now it was time for phase two to begin: getting from his teddy to the stairgate. He wanted to giggle again knowing how close he was to freedom, but that would only draw attention to himself; so he stifled the laugh and smiled. Only two more crawls and he reached the stairgate, sighing inwardly when he eventually touched the metal bars undetected. It opened easily, the top sliding forward and out of view. A rush Ezra had never experienced shot through his stocky frame as one hand crossed the other; he was soon away in a flash out into the hallway. WOW! Although he’d seen this part of the flat more times than he could remember, Ezra had never been alone when doing so. Reluctantly, he realised that he was small and insignificant in such a large space. His stomach gurgled once more, maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all. Glancing back, Ezra watched forlornly as his favourite TV show finished and another took its place, I think I should go back, he thought, scared. But you’ve made it this far! As doubts continued to grow, Ezra caught sight of the kitchen in the distance; another thought grew even more quickly: food. The hallway was squarely shaped and a clothes dryer stood to Ezra’s right, heaped almost to breaking point by the amount of clothes atop it. Now he was torn. This new found freedom was like a new world to him; the kitchen beckoned but so did everything else in sight. All thoughts of turning back were swiftly forgotten as Ezra reached out and grabbed a sock attached to the clothes dryer. Something told him that pulling it would be a good idea, but it really wasn’t. In obvious fashion, the clothes dryer clattered down in a heap as he rolled under it. Immediately, he wanted to scream for mummy, but somehow, he managed to say to himself DON’T MAKE A SOUND!

In a rush of panic, he rolled again, trying desperately to kick off a group of bibs and socks that dangled above him. Soon, however, Ezra’s fear turned into joy. This is kinda fun he thought menacingly, as eventually a foot won through and he saw the hallway once more. After another solid kick Ezra managed to sit up and crawl away; the lights in the hallway were switched off, leaving a gloomy feel behind. His tummy grumbled again, but this time felt worse, much worse. Before he could stop it, a tiny fart escaped and was swiftly followed by another. Ignore it, come on, he wanted desperately to explore further, just forget about your tummy and keep moving. Moments later his troubles within abated. Ezra’s mischievous grin returned as after taking a quick look back to make sure mummy and daddy were still half asleep, he plodded on forward.

The kitchen beckoned and many interesting things were passed along the way. The bathroom’s huge white door came into view on his left, but he decided against entering; its spooky open feel always left him feeling unnerved. Continuing to march forward, Ezra caught sight of the thing his mummy called the hoover; he’d never been so close to it before. Somehow It wasn’t so scary now that it couldn’t make any sound, but it still frightened him. Perhaps it was the way it loomed dangerously above him, or maybe the way it unfurled like a snake when touched. Whatever the reason, Ezra was relieved to finally reach the kitchen doorway, leaving the hoover well in his wake. Immediately, he was hit by a sharp brightness as his developing eyes tried to adjust; daddy had left the kitchen lights on. I’ve done it he thought proudly, I’ve finally outsmarted mummy and daddy. Now that his eyes had acclimatised to the much brighter reality of the kitchen, Ezra took in his new surroundings in awe. He wanted desperately to smack the bin and make lots of noise, as he’d done that before when mummy was with him. The bin was a deep shiny bronze in colouration, and Ezra could see his toothy reflection whenever he looked at it. You can’t do that now he told himself sternly, mummy and daddy would be in here straight away if they heard.

So, with just a hint of frustration dampening his excitement, Ezra crawled on past the bin and into the kitchens centre. Involuntarily, his stomach twitched. This time the gurgling didn’t pass; it ran from the top of his belly all the way to the bottom. Another fart escaped. Doggedly determined to try and make the most of his freedom, Ezra brushed the feelings off. Instead he looked around the room for something to take his mind away from all the jittery gurgling. Up high upon one of the kitchen sides was the family fish tank. A rainbow of fanciful colours darted around all at once: red, blues and whites swimming as fast as they could. Ezra found them truly spectacular to look at, and for a brief moment they helped him forget the discomfort he was feeling. All to soon however, the gurgling was back, and this time with a vengeance that simply couldn’t be stopped. I have to fart he panicked, squirming left and right as the inevitable eventually took its course. If I can just hold … but it was too late. The most voluminous fart to have ever escaped his bottom erupted then; so powerful was its force that it smacked off the tiled floor like a thunder clap. Ezra burst into tears when he realized it was not just a fart, as his wonderfully white pyjama bottoms turned an alarming shade of brown. He’d pooped, and by the feel of his sodden nappy, this was turning into quite an explosion. He wailed and screamed out, catching his reflection in the bin once more, the poo-splosion rapidly spreading up his back. His pyjamas made a horrible squishy sound whenever he moved now. Quicker than lightening, Chantelle sprinted into the kitchen, a look of worry masking her tired face. Adam rushed in behind her and stood by the freezer, directly in front of Ezra. “That’s one for you to change”, he joked, indicating Chantelle, but she was already one step ahead of him, “it’s too late for that, look at the mess. Go and run a bath. QUICK!”. As quickly as Adam had entered the Kitchen, he was back out of it, the bath’s gushing water already unleashed. Ezra looked longingly up at his mother then and continued to cry. “It’s ok darling, don’t worry”, she soothed, kneeling down and cradling him close. Despite the poo-splosion, Ezra needed the reassurance that only a mother could give, the reassurance that everything was going to be ok. As soon as his mother’s embrace enclosed him, a calming sensation took over. The tears that only a moment before had flowed uncontrollably were now dissipating, a curve to his upper lip signalling the return of another cheeky smile. “Oh I’m glad you’re finding this funny now young man”, laughed Chantelle, clearly relieved that nothing more sinister had come from her sons little sojourn in the kitchen. As she started stripping Ezra down, much to the disgust of her nostrils, Adam popped his head around the door and said “the bath is done”. Only moments later, Ezra was carried at arms length from the kitchen and dunked with a splash straight into a warm, cosy bubble bath. Thinking to himself all the while what a wonderful poop-tastic morning it had been.

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