One of my favourite stories to tell is the adventure of cleaning up after Nicklaus when I used to babysit him.
One day, I woke up from an afternoon nap by a horrible stench. It was my brother, Nicklaus, seated in the middle of the brown puddle, his tiny hands splattering his shit. Horrified and disgusted at the same time, my 10 year old self lifted the rascal from the puddle of shit, threw him into a bucket of water and washed him. I even slipped my hand between his asscrack to make sure it’s all clean. Discarded his shit soaked clothes and proceeded to clean the living room.
I am a good sister.
Nicklaus with me and Nikki, circa 1995
But the smell of feces lingered on for hours and I wondered why. I had thoroughly cleaned up the boy as well as the floor. I checked everywhere for traces of shit but I found nothing. Eventually, I thought nothing of it and just assumed it was the curtains that had absorbed the stench. Later on, when I carried Nicklaus, a sudden burst of shit particles in the air attacked my nostrils. Confirmed it’s the kid. BUT WHERE??????
I stripped him and started inspecting him again. Nothing. And then there was an a-ha moment.
I checked underneath his nails and starring back at me, 10 lines of dried shit trapped underneath his nails.
Nicklaus today
He’s now the tallest in the family. How time has passed.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NICKLAUS!!!!!!!