I should have seen it coming, because last night I gave TLM some kiwifruit. You may not know this, especially if you have never fed a kid kiwifruit, but those furry little green ovals activate a child's bowels like nothing else on earth.
This morning's surprise output was so encompassing, that when I took off TLM's trousers some of it landed on my lap. The rest of it fell between my knees onto the long-suffering rug.
I screamed in horror. The wipes were just out of reach.
The boy, only just dressed to go to work, rushed into the lounge to see who was getting murdered.
I screamed some more and pointed at the box of wipes in the far corner.
The boy went in the opposite direction, perhaps thinking I was thirsty and in need of some elderflower cordial.
I screamed still more, this time with an edge of irritation and waving my pointy finger agressively.
Then I said "The wipes! The bloody wipes!".
The boy muttered something about mind-reading and fetched the wipes.
And we used them all up in the clean-up operation.
Now, I was going to post about TLM's toilet humour. But toilet horror is probably a bit less cliched, right?