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PEEP

by on July 14, 2008

Today I was trained to perform neonatal resuscitation. Should your child be born at my hospital, and should you have the great misfortune of having me on call, and the even greater misfortune of having your child require resuscitative action, I would be involved in saving your child’s life. All that aside, it’s been drummed into me the need for Positive End-Expiratory Pressure should a child be in the throes of secondary apnea. Layman’s terms: Your kid can’t breath enough to stay alive, so I’m gonna help by shoving extra air down the lungs. Copy?

Now, enter my humble, humble abode where PEEP now stands for Positive End-Expiratory Poop. Today, we have a dramatic turn around from yesterday. Today, my beautiful baby did not poop into his diaper during dinner time. In fact, he even ate a few decent bites from a spoon before blissfully smashing broccoli and carrots everywhere. He was so tired out from today, he even went to bed early. And then half and hour later, he woke up. No matter. My video-gamin’ husband transported him smoothly to the bathroom, got him into position, and gave him his signal. PSSSSSS… Gave it so well in fact, that Emmett took it to heart and began to poop. Fortunately, I stuck my head under his arm and noted that my son had started a process of PEEP, so now the toilet paper was about be used to achieve it’s greatest ambition ever: to catch poop. And poop it did catch. And pee-pee, too. Albeit, we prematurely ended the session, and Emmett made a small, but tidy pile on the changing table. No matter. He was speedily transported back to the toilet, where he dutifully, and sleepily dropped off the rest of his business. Made it known that he was quite done, and thus was rewrapped into his diaper, and tucked back into his crib. The End. PEEP!

(But no, that doesn’t mean I think I want another child soon. I’ll grow tomatillos to satisfy that need to grow something for now.)

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One Comment
  1. Uncle Jeremy rules permalink

    I hear tomatillos are much easier to pee.

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