The story goes:
I went to yoga. When I came home I sat at the kitchen table with Bine, who was drawing, and asked if she'd had fun with her brother and pappa in my absence.
"Yes," she replied, "Except for one part."
"What happened?" I asked.
"I'll show you."
Turns out Angus had pooped in his pants. This wasn't popular with Pappa, who had mindfully checked in with Gussy throughout the morning to avoid exactly this scenario, thought it smelled awful, and didn't like having to clean it up. Angus, in turn, cried.
Let's break it down:
Pappa, whose body language--hands on hips, red eyes, tongue out--reflects his immense distaste for the situation. B used artistic license with the nose ring. (Caitlin, the yoga teacher, has one and Bine thinks it pretty cool.)
Poor Gussy. He should have gone to the potty earlier when Pappa asked him (a trillion times) if he needed to.
Bine, also hands on hips. The things she has to endure, living with such people.
I paused at this detail:
"Was someone there taking a picture as all this went down?" Bine, exasperated by my inability to see the obvious, "Noooo...It's that picture of you on the wall in there." It clicks. The diaper drama happened in the playroom.
This photo is in a frame on the wall in the room next to the kitchen, and it was behind Pappa and Angus as they emoted. I guess details are forever imprinted when stench and fury rise up in unison.
