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JevInstincts
Volume VI number XI

Food colouring should come with a warning label. It wouldn’t have to be anything as large and scary like the stickers on a pack of smokes. Something small, but it would have to state unequivocally that what goes in coloured has a very high probability of coming out coloured.

Allow me to go backup a few days and set this one up properly. I’m not going back as far as Halloween, but close: it’s the day after. There’s a tradition in our house where the daddy (me) makes a tasty breakfast at least every other Saturday. Said breakfast to include waffles, pancakes, berries, whipped cream, scrambled eggs, coffee and juice. Occasionally bacon and sausages will make an appearance (hmmm bacon).

I’m in the kitchen preparing to make pancakes (I make ‘em from scratch) and I thought to myself, “Hey, why not have fun with the breakfast today.” So I set about making the breakfast fun. I open the cupboard looking for inspiration, and my eyes catch the food colouring.

Ding!

So I grab the colours of the rainbow and set about adding my Tim Burton touches to the breakfast. When I was done, I sat back and said to myself, “… and it was good.”

So I poked my head around the corned and yelled up the stairs that breakfast was ready. A small gaggle of kids round the corner looking for their food. I stand there waiting for their reaction.

“Cool, blue pancakes!”
“Hey, look there are smarties in them!”
“Ewwww, green eggs.”
“Hey, the whipped cream is pink.”

I bask in the glory of a job well done. The resulting flurry of activity resembles a feeding frenzy at the zoo. Within minutes, my wife and I are the only occupants at the table. Eventually we finish and I clean up.

The day passes by uneventfully and later in the evening the boys come running up stairs holding their noses. "She's stinky!" She being my two year old daughter. I wander down and retrieve her and take her upstairs to change her, despite her protests that she's not stinky.

I take off the diaper and am greeted by a sight no father should ever have to see. I quickly finish the job, and then call down stairs to my wife, "I think she's sick honey." This is one thing mothers everywhere respond to, and I feel bad playing wolf, but I can't help myself. She scurries up and pokes her head in the room. "What's the matter?" Right on queue. I justify my behaviour by telling myself she asked for it. I open the diaper and point at the contents. "That's not heathly."

The look of horror doesn't last long since I can't keep a straight face to save my life. "I guess green is the strongest of the colours. She really does like her eggs."

I get a sharp shot to the arm and she storms off. I smile to myself, we all had the same food, and the boys are in for a suprise ...

PS I know this was pretty sad, all of that just to say I saw a green turd in a diaper. I was pretty cool is a disgusting sort of way.

Jevon the Tall
November 2003