Waxing Poetic

Recently, you had what I will refer to as a "blowout."  In my pre-parenting days, a blowout meant I was changing a tire on the shoulder of the highway. However, now, a "blowout" means that mommy and daddy have to wash a lot of things.  A. Lot. Of. Things.

Pictured above is the scene of the crime...your changing table.  

You gave us no warning.  One minute you are peacefully at rest - seconds later, we're at DEFCON 5.  I thought we were taking incoming fire.  No.  It was just your rear end.  Stuff was everywhere.  Everywhere.  I'm going to have flashbacks someday.  At one point during the ordeal I uttered the following words in reference to the clothing you were wearing:  "So...what do we do?!? Do we have to cut this thing off??  I'll get the scissors!"  Lucky for you, mommy had a cool head and had you stripped, cleaned and changed in no time.

In honor of the occasion, daddy parodied a stanza from a well-known poem. That's how I cope.

Diapers, diapers, every where,

And oh did daddy shrink;

Diapers, diapers, every where,

And boy did they all stink.

The first reader to post the name of the poem from which the preceding was parodied wins an exclusive interview with the Lily Blog wherein you get to give Lily some life advice on a subject of your choosing.  Preferably bowel control, but I'll leave that up to you.