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18 November 2007

Pooter of Terror

Us = 1, Really Good Team of Other Girls = 4. Good effort from some, but not enough skill overall to match up. The player’s mothers seem to focus on the effort of the girls and father’s seem to focus on the accomplishment of, well, whatever we accomplish…like the first goal, the 2nd half shut out or the fastest group scrum to unearth the after game snacks from the cooler. It is frustrating some times to hear so much glorification of effort when the effort is anything but glorifying, but therein lies a meaningful and consistent difference between mothers and fathers. The challenge of course, as a family and dare I say as a society is finding that appropriate balance between what it takes to help one feel good about themselves, but also keeping their eye on the measurement of achievement. I am a fervent believer in meeting stated objectives which puts me clearly in the 2nd category … and as our relationship grows it will be more apparent why.

Speaking of spewing fecal matter, Tonya informed me that Ethan had some ‘impaction’ during our game today. Actually, ‘pressurized projectile poo formerly known as impaction’ would be a better description since the act of no longer being rectally restrained is what is noteworthy. I previously reported an instance of projectile poo on his changing table. Well, this streaming wad of dookie shot, like a Gatling Gun, from the middle of the backseat of our truck, grazing Tonya’s arm and out the door of the truck, landing just shy of the neighboring vehicle. Only gravity stopped this geyser from peeling the guy’s paint job. I am guessing a 5 foot fountain of poo, and that was with Tonya’s bare arm as an obstruction. JFK’s magic bullet theory has nothing on Ethan’s little pooter of terror.

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