What do I think is cute? Newborn puppies. Babies. Dr. Phil. All typical answers, right? Last night, my mom redefined what the word cute means.
Ever since Emma and Andrew started to eat more solid foods, there are occasions where you can tell they are constipated. They might be on the floor or even in their high chair, but there is this aura of concentration -- both on their face and in their asses. A couple of grunts might be followed with a slight reddening of the cheeks (once again, both face and ass). And then it's all over. And it's anyone's guess whether there is a bunch of crap in their diaper or nothing at all. Feces or famine, I say.
So last night, Andrew -- who has been hit with more constipation than Emma -- started to grunt giving us the cue that he was trying to push out his little baby we like to call Baby Poopy. Grandma Ichikawa was holding Andrew and we told her to wait a few minutes before checking to see if his diaper needed to be changed. Time past and Grandma Ichikawa decided to do a quick check inside Andrew's depository. And this is what Grandma said...
"Ohhhhh! Rook at dat! Andrew did the tiny-est poo-poo in his pants. Hard as rock. Rittle as a pebble. It is sooooo cute!"
Wait a second...rewind please.
"!etuc ooooos si tI .elbbep a sa elttiR..."
"Rittle as a pebble. It is sooooo cute!"
Okaaaaay. My mom just described a concentrated clump of crap as cute. Even if Andrew's poop came out smiling with two googly eyes and a purple fedora, I still wouldn't call it cute. Furthermore, my mom just popped it out of the diaper and put it in a kleenex to throw in the garbage. If Grandma Ichikawa ever describes Andrew's urine as sexy, I just won't know what to do with myself.
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