The Tour of Doodie

This weekend, I was in Chicago unpacking Pods. On a promotional level, these things freaking rock. You get five days to pack as much stuff in them as possible and then the pod people come and take it away. They'll hold it for $100/month until your stupid kid flies back into town to unpack it you are ready to load it in your new home.

Now, I packed Pod #1 so everything inside didn’t come as a surprise. I knew all the crap in it. Pod #2 was like receiving a giant birthday present and finding Mattel’s Barbie Enema Kit when you unwrapped it. Holy crap. The highlight item from this Pod was 72 bricks and paving stones. Uh huh—rocks. I moved rocks. It was painful as my brother and I unpacked each item, but the good news is that all this stuff is out of the old house. The movers will handle everything else.

My brother’s wife had us come over for lunch. They only live a mile from my parent’s new house, so it was easy to break and have a nice home-cooked meal waiting. My brother has two kids; a son who is 4 and a daughter who is 1. The son and I get along well. He’s a bit on the hyper/excited side, but he’s a great kid.

After lunch, we all played a bit before heading back to the Pods. My nephew announced that he had to go to the bathroom and took off. We all chatted for another 5 minutes until he began shouting from the toilet. My brother got up to check on him and then a loud voice echoed through the house. “I want Unka Steve!”

I lifted my aching body from the floor and headed over to the bathroom door. My brother was smiling. “What’s up?” I asked.

My nephew looked up. “You’re my favorite. I want you to wipe my butt.”