I Love You Stinky Butt

One of my favorite books is "I Love You Stinky Face," by Lisa McCourt. It's the story of a little boy who questions his mother's love for him. Would she still love him if he were a terrible meat-eating dinosaur? She'd say "I love you, my sweet, terrible dinosaur," it reads. A super-smelly skunk? Her response ... "I'd whisper in your ear, 'I love you Stinky Face.'"

I'll always remember rocking my sweet Grayson and reading this book to him when he was only weeks old. He'll never remember the first time we read it, but for me, it will always be "our" book.

Its point is that this little boy's mother loves him unconditionally. Regardless of big, sharp teeth or slimy, smelly seaweed, she loves her wonderful child. It's what being a mother is all about.

Whether small or large, a mother overlooks her child's imperfections and loves without question. Of course, these "flaws" are rather minute when the child is a baby, and most likely grow greater as the years pass. For Grayson, the opportunity for having any weakness is negligible. What blemish can a 5 1/2 month old possibly have?

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He has a stinky butt.

Laugh all you want. At first, I was unsure of its source or cause. Thinking that maybe it wasn't even him that I was smelling. But after careful observation, I learned it was, in fact, him. I blamed the dog at first.....maybe we had changed her food. No? How about the hubs? His family (mother excluded) is notorious for "passing gas". But when the hubs is at work and the dog tucks it's tail between it's legs and runs.....somethings up (or down, in this case).

How can something so small, stink so badly? My son can fart louder than a lumberjack after wolfing down a 5 lb can of beans. The smell alone will jerk your tears harder than if you had just chopped a bucket of raw onions. It will turn your head quicker than Emmit Smith on Dancing With the Stars. It's gotten 50 times worse since we've introduced green beans, peas and squash to his menu.

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I'm. Not. Kidding.

It must be great to be a guy. You can pee outside, "write" your name on a wall, all the while, standing. But you know what has to be even better? Being a little guy-ahem- I mean a baby guy. Grayson can unburden his heiny whenever the mood strikes, no need for a moments hesitation because there's always something there to "catch the fall". His diaper. His blanket. His clothes. My clothes. The wall. His Daddy's shirt. You name the target; he's probably tagged it- bull's eye.

God bless his future girlfriend/wife. Hopefully, he will grow up with enough coothe (sp?) to squeeze his butt cheeks together in public (or at least while on their first date) whenever he feels a toot coming on. I got at least 3 toot-free years from his Daddy. But once you start sharing a bathroom with a female....I guess it's just "tough luck" for us, huh?

No matter what, every time I get a whiff, I'm reminded of the little board book and have to say to him, "I love you stinky butt".