By Rebecca Leys

He sleeps

Arms and legs outflung, milky white

Soft and naked in the summer heat

A pallid starfish

His eyelids are smooth

Delicately curved lavender.

I have seen shells

Just like them

Discarded on the beach

Half-filled with sand

His fingers are curled

Inwards around his palms

Like a secret

Tousled baby-fine hair

Sticks damply to his temples

Scrambles over his head

In loops and whorls

Gently his breath slips in

And out of him, laden with

Cinnamon scone and breastmilk

And peace

Rebecca has just experienced a whole new level of gross.

The toddler escaping from the shower, shedding massive turds in his progression at high speed across the bathroom, exiting the bathroom still pooing, mummy chasing, losing him (ohmigod which room is he pooing in now?!!) toddler doubling back, reentering the shower leaving a skid mark right across the bathroom mat, mummy discovering him in the shower, leaving him there while she scoops up the turds with great wads of toilet paper and tosses them in the toilet, then takes the bathmat to rinse in the laundry tub. (phew take a breath)

Mummy hearing a Significant Noise and dashing back to the toilet to discover toddler has scooped pooey toilet paper back out of the toilet (why didn’t I flush when I had the chance?!!) and has dropped daddy’s reading book (Cracking the Millionaire Code by Mark Victor Hansen) into the toilet with the rest of the poo.