I had such a nice time with Mommy and Daddy tonight. I stuck my tongue out at them, yelled "Ggkgkgkshhhhh!" and giggled the whole time. It was great. I cherish those moments. They're amazing.
Until I felt a disturbance in my pooper.
That's when my face turned red and I began to cry. I hate this. Why can't it just plop out? Why do I have to work for it?
But this time, I was not alone. Mommy and Daddy held my hands and yelled "Push it, Wyatt! Push it!" And I pushed harder and harder, and they kept cheering me on, encouraging me. "Harder! Harder!" And my face turned even redder and I cried louder and pushed and pushed and Mommy and Daddy kissed me and raised their energy levels and kept me positive and I pushed and pushed, harder and harder.
This went on for three long minutes. And then, when I thought I gave it everything I had, eureka. I was finally able to smile. And Mommy and Daddy cheered and told me how proud they were of me.
And then they smelled what I delivered.
Oh, so now it's not fun and games anymore, Mommy and Daddy? Now we're taking a different air on things? You knew what you were getting. Don't kid yourselves. You know how these things work. You asked for it and you got it.
Please clean me.
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