There's no title for something this gross

All of a sudden, Caleb cares about what he eats. He's getting finicky. Like the other night when he turned up his cute nose at carrots and some expensive organic whole-milk yogurt that I buy because I'm so paranoid about what goes into his little baby body.

Probably because he was full of tree mulch, which he had spent the last 20 minutes eating in the front yard.

This got me thinking about some of the completely repulsive things my kids have eaten. I mean, they've all eaten dirt, or three-day-old dessicated "leftovers" they discover under the kitchen table. That stuff is pedestrian, for amateurs. I'm talking about the stuff that actually made me gag a little.

Like when Jensen announced at dinner, "You know, flies don't taste as good as they look." (He got bored one day in kindergarten and decided to eat a fly and didn't really care for it.) Or when he made Evan eat a worm after he watched the movie "How to Eat Fried Worms." (That is the grossest movie ever made, by the way.)

Or when he discovered old gum on the bottom of a restaurant table. Or when Evan plopped down on a theater floor and made a meal of what he found there.

That stuff is yucky, but I think most parents (at least parents of boy-children) have similar tales.

But: brace yourselves. Because this next one is Really Bad.

When one of the big boys (who shall remain nameless) was a pre-walker, he had diaper rash. We let him crawl around with a bare butt, to air him out a little. And because it was cute. Until we found him sitting in a corner, happily snacking away on his own poo. It was in his hair. In his ears. Up his nose. And in his mouth.

Not cute anymore.

Jeff wimped out, and left the room gagging. (This from a man who ate his lunch while watching a doctor break my water last time I was in labor. Ew.) Which meant I had to clean up this 9-month old human octopus who was covered in crap.

Baby wipes. Q-tips. Washcloths. Baby shampoo. Ivory soap. After I figured out where to start (his hands) I got the majority of him cleaned up pretty easily. But how was I supposed to clean out his precious mouth? I wiped it out with a washcloth, but that didn't really get it all. It was still plenty yucky in there.

Turns out the answer was right in front of me: Jeff's toothbrush. Of course! (That's the price he paid for sticking me with this horrific task.) So I brushed the babe's mouth until I made him gag, and called it good. I'll tell you what, though, it was a while before I let the little guy give me one of those wet, sloppy, open-mouth baby kisses.

(Because I love my husband, and am not [entirely] evil, I did tell him about the toothbrush before bedtime hygiene. Probably would have made for a better story if I hadn't. But, seriously....)

I've never heard anyone share a similar story. Which leads me to wonder: is it because everyone else has enough common sense not to admit that this happened to them? Or is it because we are the worst parents in the world and nobody else would ever allow this to happen in the first place? If you could set my mind at ease, I'd really appreciate it.