EWAN AND THE RECORD BREAKING BIGGEST EXPLODING POO (PART 2)
On one of the days I do not go to nursery, in the morning grandad looks after me. He gave me Weetabix I ate a bit and then, so as not to waste the dish turned it upside down on my head. My grandad laughed so much to see the Weetabix running all through my hair and down my face. Grandad hates it if I do not eat. The plan worked. He gave me some Shreddies. I ate them and shouted “More”. He gave me more. The plan was working brilliantly. “More” I shouted. Grandad gave me more. The problem is I do not know when to stop eating and grandad does not know when to stop giving me food. After six times the Shreddies box was empty.
My plan had worked better than I could have dreamt. By lunchtime there was a major poo explosion in my nappy, like you have never heard or witnessed before. It went absolutely everywhere and smelt vile. “Yes,Yes, Yes” I cried. Well, I cried. You have to add drama, especially if grandad’s in charge. It panics him.
He put me on the bed upstairs and attempted to clean me up. I giggled so much I had achieved it, a giant exploding poo, sprayed everywhere due to the Shreddies. All my mates at nursery will declare me a hero when I tell them about this. A prize winning exploding poo causing major stress for grandad in one smooth action. I am so amazing The best day of my life so far.
But then mamma joined him. Like I said, a little off the wall. “”You should have bathed him and put clean clothes on. Look its all in his hair.” She moaned at poor grandad. I briefly felt sorry for him and wished I’d not done it. But I got over that when I thought, its his own fault he chose her. Not like me with my parents. I was dumped on them. No choice for me there.
So mamma ran a bath for me. I told you she’s off the wall. Middle of the day it was, not bed time or getting up time.
Then it happened. I had by this time picked up a sweeping brush. You know the type long handle four footish, bristles on the end. That was in one hand and in the other a battery light torch. I didn’t particularly like it but I was told I couldn’t have it so you need to cling to such things and never ever let them go.
Mamma said you cannot take them in the bath. I told you she was off the wall. I screamed and kicked and lashed out like never before. Something else that will score me major points when I tell my peers at nursery, tomorrow.
But then out of the blue mamma gave me a bottle and choc-choc bear. Yes, in the middle of the afternoon. I told you she was off the wall. Mum and dad would not allow that. Don’t know where the brush and torch went. Who cares anyway, life is all about priorities.
When I was a lad at school around 13 years old, our Maths teacher used to call me Wol. At the end of the year as we were moving up a class I plucked up courage to ask why he called me Wol. He told meit was thename of the deslexic owl in Winnie the Pooh. With my Harry Potter glasses he said I looked like the Wise Old Owl in the Winnie the Pooh stories.
Being the vain person I am I took it as a compliment
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