You have to take the shit with the giggles

We have finally moved to OUR house. Here's Rehan in the cot his Datuk Z bought.

For the second day in a row, my dearest boy shat on me and all over the place. Reasons unknown, his poo is runny and yellow in the day but not at night, making me clean-up crew and not his dad. (Great! He loves me that much, huh?)

The sheer enormity of cleaning up poo can make one weep.

And so, a graduate does a non-graduate's job. (p/s - is there a minimum edu requirement for a cleaner?)

Unfortunately, the same rule does not apply to grown-ups. In their case, the ones who are full of shit do not come with giggles. I do not see why those who have done nothing towards raising my child are the ones most inclined to telling me how to do it. But there it is. Argh...am growing up. Learning how to be coffee...or was it tea? Or me?

Politeness makes me refrain from telling them where to shove their 'advice' (read: criticism) and comments. Argh...am growing up. Learning restraint!