Caddyshack Revisited

This is a story about poo. But like most stories about poo, it begins as a story about food.

Makenna started solids last week, a wallpaper paste mixture of breast milk and rice cereal. This week, we added applesauce. At each bite she squinches up her face and shudders. When it's all said and done, she always wants more.

In the last two days she's really been eating. She lunges for the spoon and bolts her food like a baby hyena. 

I've noticed of late, however, that output hasn't been matching input. Which is no big deal. It wouldn't be a big deal even now - if output hadn't just happened to occur while she was playing with daddy.

And not wearing diapers.

Because they were both in the bathtub.

Since I was cooking dinner, I heard the hollering from the bathroom and de-DEUCE-d the general gist of The Varmint's situation. However, I was not prepared for The Varmint's panic-stricken face or the sight of a full baby log - my daughter's first! Aww! The little submariner had sunk to the bottom of the tub.

CaddyShack2Meanwhile, the kid's wearing her best, "Look what I did, Mommy!" toothless, lopsided grin as The Varmint valiantly holds her up out of the water. It is all just too much for me and I collapse on the floor in a fit laughter, hooting. 

It may have been the hooting. Perhaps he was none too pleased at my instinctive grabbing of a camera. Either way, his precarious predicament left The Varmint simultaneously vexed and hyper-aware of the hilarity of the situation.

"No pictures!" he growls at me. "Some things just don't need to be captured for posterity - and this is one of them! It's a poop!"

"Okay, okay," I reply, crestfallen. Nearly immediately I think to myself: But they CAN be recreated for posterity, right? 

CaddyShack3So, much later, after showers and scrubbings and bleach and fresh diapers, I unwrap a 100-Grand bar (a prescient gift left by our accountant this very day), grab the Nikon and sneak into the bathroom.

The Varmint, being The Varmint, knows immediately what I'm up to. And relating to varmints on a deeply emotional level, he instantly recognizes the moment for what it is - a tribute to Caddyshack. He can't help but brush aside his growly demeanor and participate. 

So, hopping from foot to foot, he waits impatiently for the picture to be taken. Then grinning madly, he pounces on the candy bar and takes an enormous bite.

"It may not be a Baby Ruth," I think to myself, "but that right there is worth a 100-Grand."


  1. Ubermegan said on April 22, 2007 15:51

    I'm so proud of beautiful Mak for trying yams, learning to crawl and bestowing this particular gift upon her daddy...


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I am a writer and lazy artist who loves travel, architecture and design. Right now, I'm into photography. My fabulous husband (a.k.a. The Varmint) and I are also the principals of a San Diego-based creative agency - and new parents to the divine Baby Mak. Read More >