Blowouts And Other Road Hazards

There's one skill that I just don't seem to have yet. Sometimes I hear mom and dad saying something about a "potty" and then there's a word after that which sounds like "train" which I know is the noisy thing that lives 2 blocks south of our house, and runs by and shouts a lot, especially early in the morning. I think whatever they're saying has something to do with what happened to me today.
Dad was feeding me this morning because mom was still really tired (I don't know why. I let her sleep at least 5 hours straight last night.) I nearly always poop when I'm being fed. Better out than in, I say. But today was different, and especially embarrassing. I pooped as usual and when I felt an unusual warm sensation up my back, I gave dad a big smile. He smiled back, because that's what we do these days since I discovered this social trick. Anyway, he seemed happy enough, but then he turned me over and looked at my back and he wasn't smiling anymore. He got up really fast and took me in my room and took all my clothes off and held them between two fingers on the way to the washing machine. By this time I knew what had happened and I was so mortified and cold and naked that I couldn't help crying. Pretty soon dad came back and put a new diaper on me so at least I was decent. Then I pretty much forgot all about it when he put me in my swingy chair, which is basically my favorite place to be.




"Waitress! Gonna need some milk in here!"