Sunday, November 3, 2013

Poop in the Hand Leads to Bad Ju Ju

Son #2 is in the process of potty training...again.  During the summer, he potty trained and grasped the basic concept.  However, toward the end of the summer Son #2 resisted using the toilet and reverted back to pooping his pants.  This, of course, was out of pure defiance.

The other day, my husband and I were watching our youngest son run naked through the house.  He was doing well getting to the toilet when he needed to urinate.  Yet, we noticed he had not pooped at all that day.  Trouble was coming.

All of a sudden, my husband noticed Son #2's face turning bright red.  He grunted and squatted to the floor.  My husband shrieked.  "Poo poo in the potty!"  Son #2 stopped for a moment to look questioningly at my husband.  Then, my husband grabbed our little son's arm and rushed him to the restroom.

While all this was going on, I sat in the rocking chair reviewing data from my place of employment.  From my seat, I could hear the following events.

My husband encouraged.  "Hurry Son.  You need to poo poo in the potty."

Son #2 scrambled to the potty but took his time climbing onto the seat.

My husband shouted.  "No Son!  Nooooo!"

I could hear Son #2 whisper in a tiny voice.  "Oh no."  One could only assume that Son #2 missed the toilet and that a large turd lay on the bathroom floor.

Then, I heard my husband call out.  "I've got poop on my hands!?!"  I collapsed into a fit of laughter.

With a hint of irritation, my husband yelled.  "That's not funny!"

"It is to me!"  I replied between tears and laughter.

My husband eventually disinfected the bathroom floor and our baby's bottom.  However, his revenge came to haunt me a few weeks later.

Today, Son #2 was successfully using the potty when he needed to urinate.  Comfortable in the knowledge that my child was basically potty trained, I went to my bedroom to finish the laundry.  I should never have left the main living quarters.  My small toddler was running around with a shirt and a bare bottom.  That always spells trouble.

Ten minutes into folding laundry, I heard a little voice call my name.  "Mama!  Mama!  I poo pooed."  I glanced around the corner and saw Son #2's legs covered in excrement.  He was standing in the living room yet I did not see the turd.  Where could it be?

I walked down the hallway to his room investigating the carpet.  So far, everything was still clean.  Then, I entered his room and saw what can only be describe as my husband's revenge upon me.  Poo was everywhere.  Upon a second investigation of my small child, I discovered the feces was also on his hands.

Quickly, I removed all the toys from the bathtub and placed my dirty child into the basin.  Then, I poured soap over his shirt and body.  Water ran from the faucet to the drain in an effort to clear the poo from the bath tub and my child's body.  Meanwhile, I worked on cleansing his room.

As always, I learn from the many mishaps that occur.  Unfortunately, I have trouble remembering the lessons.

Confucius say elevator smell different to midget.

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