this post is extremely juvenile and scatalogical and i would recommend that you read something else that is less overly concerned with feces

when we all woke up at the ungodly hour of 5:30 in the AM, my daughter had not had a bowel movement in four days.

these are the types of facts that occupy the uppermost part of my powerful brain these days. this is what lives in my noggin's top real estate; prime head-space is devoted to the colon of a lilliputian, drooling tourette's sufferer. life, she is a vile and taunting strumpet.

anyway, yes, the day started without a single poop on her behalf in around 90 hours. my god! i will spare you the details of mr nice guy's own lower-intestinal output, but it's damn near the reciprocal of once every four days. (thanks primarily to you, delicious coffee.)

my theory is that it was the solids. she had started "eating" solid food (organic carrot pudding spackle, smeared liberally about her face and bib) in earnest just a few days prior. for at least a week she had already been partaking of single-grain organic rice cereal farmed by celestial virgins in hand-sewn organic cotton tunics. so my poor child's innards, which had been subjected to nothing but sweet, sweet breastmilk for four-plus months were suddenly being bombarded with grains! and veggies! a viscous backlog had understandably built up. by late yesterday mrs nice guy and i found ourselves engaged in a spirited game of hot-potato: whoever was holding mount baby when she erupted would be responsible for clean-up.

well. today, i lost.

three times.

ladies and gentlemen, we have entered a terrible new era of Real Human Shit. at some point around 10:30 this morning i knew something big was going down. she was not enjoying her rice cereal. she would not eat. i suspected she was teething for she had been chewing with renewed virulence upon, well, everything. but suddenly a new look i had never seen before crossed her face. she appeared simultaneously determined, afraid, confused and in pain. then she grunted. her entire body bunched up as she bore down. then, of course, there was a new odor, never hitherto associated with my daughter.

anguish and stink. oh vile, pernicious child, my own private judas iscariot, what hath thou wrought upon my home?!

anyway, there were three subsequent movements of increasing magnitude and excruciating density throughout the day, three thick toothpasty loads of meatloaf stool between 10:30 and 6:30. whenever she wasn't crapping or sleeping she would just sit there, angry at the world, going "meeeeh-eh-eh. bleegggghhhh!" not as cute as it sounds. and each time the special instant arrived, the same new possessed look would cross her face. never before had i made eye contact with someone at the very moment she was voiding. i was worried that some freaky friday moment might transpire and we would suddenly find ourselves in the other's body. but no. after each dramatic diaper-deposit the child cried hot tears (of a dear god what is happening to my sphincter? is this what johnny cash is singing about in "ring of fire?" nature). the child would scream. she would cry. it was heartbreaking. if only i could switch places, i would make it so she never had to excrete solids again!

but! then! when she was finished, she would be in a marvelous mood. she would sleep for at least an hour! "constipation," you say. "poor baby," you say. well, i say: "three times in one day! three naps! in one day!"

oh, solids. the overture of baby fury and the epilogue of high-pressure hose cleanup may be steep prices to pay for an hourlong nap, but it's on. today carrots, tomorrow fiber in all its forms: wheat bran, beans, barley, rye and pure 10-gigabit ethernet optics! child, you will learn to appreciate the multi-feceted faceted joys of a rich and complex diet (and the attendant naps). and it will be good.