(Warning: Detailed baby-body function discussion ahead).

I just don’t do enough bragging about my husband, and he deserves it – he’s a talented chap. So, now let me boast and rave about one of his (many, many) talents. Mike is now known around these parts as the “Fart Whisperer”. It started as the “Baby Whisperer” as he had an intuitive knowledge of what was bothering Kayliana, but he has since honed his skill even more. It doesn’t take a super genius, really, to know that most of the time gas-related issues are what plagues Kayli, but Mike really does have special skill.

At first I was a little jealous and bitter, “Why can’t I be the one who REALLY gets Kayli? The one who understands her needs?” And then I realized that with great power comes great responsibility (actually, I didn’t realize that, Peter Parker/slash/Spiderman did, but it applies here too). I pointed out to Mike that if he continued to be the one to always help Kayli work through pain, if he was always the one who could get her to sleep, then he’d have himself a full-time job! And now, like Jesus-casting-out demons (OK, not really), through the right amount of leg-bending and back-patting, Mike can call out the built-up pressure and help ease Kayliana’s pain (thus the new title of Fart Whisperer). It’s like he summons the Gas Demons and the evil pain just releases from her little toot-constipated-gas-tortured body. And we all breathe a sigh of relief (while simultaneously holding our breath).

Kayli – as I’ve said – suffers a bit from the ‘ol constipation issues. Well, the other day, we had quite the cathartic release, if you will. A few times, in one day. Let’s just say that one diaper change required a bath. Another involved about three outfit changes and then the last one was what Matthew once referred to as “creepy.” On Thanksgiving Day, while watching the Macy’s parade, Mike had decided to just change Kayliana downstairs on the floor while we watched. I’d gone upstairs for a moment when I heard Mike yelling, “Back-up! I need back-up!” I hustled downstairs to witness that Kayli was using the diaper change as the opportunity to, uh, finish her business. And there was a lot of business to finish. The business was finishing all over the fresh diaper, the changing pad, Mike, etc. Matthew – unfortunately – happened to be seated in such a way that he had a front row seat for the horror. His eyeballs were saucer-big and a look of disgusted fascination was plastered to his face. This was the diaper change that was the first of many “creepy” ones.

So, the other day, while in the middle of a “creepy” change, I required some back-up. I called to Matthew saying that I needed a few more plastic bags from under the kitchen sink to dispose of all the creepiness and could he bring them to me. Matthew called back, “What have I told you about this?! I do NOT want to hear about all that disgusting diaper business!...but I’ll bring you the bags.” Matthew bumped and stumbled down the hall and then stood in Kayli’s doorway – eyes squeezed shut AND hand plastered over them – with his other hand extended full of plastic baggery. I thanked him and he made a quick eyes-still-closed exit.

Apparently our mini-Mike does NOT take after his father in this area. But as long as Matthew keeps those plastic-bags a-comin’ I can survive the creepy changes until the Fart Whisperer comes home to work his magic.