Following Standard Imperial Procedure

I got stuck helping LMJ pinch a deuce today. I thought we had an agreement. Daddy lets her do dangerous stuff that Mommy and Grammy won't, and she doesn’t poop on Daddy’s watch. We were bouncing along through the day very nicely. We’d watch ten minutes of Winnie the Pooh. We’d play with blocks. We’d watch ten minutes of Pooh. We’d play outside. We’d eat some fruit with flax seed oil while watching a Sesame Street podcast. Then she couldn’t sit still, which she normally can’t anyway, but she was extra fidgety. And then she got gassy. She was peeling the paint off the walls with the fumes. It took me about ten minutes before I realized it wasn’t a competition, and I asked her if she had to poop. She said no, of course, so we continued playing basketball, and sitting on the couch, and sitting on Daddy’s lap, and farting. I was hoping she just had the wind and could make it another six or seven hours, so I could pass this job on to her mother. It wasn’t five minutes later when she said, “POOP!” and we headed to the bathroom. I had her dressed in overalls with a onesie underneath, which I didn’t think would be a problem today because I thought we had an agreement. I got her out of her overalls and onesie, and sat her down on her little seat, and she said, “BOOK?!?” Thank God a book was in there for her to read. Even though we weren’t even to, “Nine soft friends…” before she was preparing to make the jump to lightspeed. Mommy has this down to a science now, and there’s never any fuss. Today, LMJ started crying a little bit and I was worried that we hadn’t been feeding her the right stuff to help keep her from getting bunged up, but as I was hugging her she told me “WIPE”, so we did. And then we high-fived, said Yay! and got dressed. Another “been there, done that" that I can add to the list, even though she did all the work.