This morning I heard my two year old yelling from across the house, "Poop! Mom, poop!" I knew at that moment that the world was truly coming to an end -- my son was actually telling me when he needed to go. I went racing for him in a monumental attempt to make it on time.
Instead, I met him in the hallway CARRYING his messy underwear, proudly saying, "I took them off for you!" Oh good grief. Of course I couldn't have been lucky enough for this to be a one-wipe kind of poop. Nnnnooooooo, it had to be the holy-cow-someone-has-given-this-kid-too-much-apple-juice kind.
After an unsuccessful attempt at cleaning him up, I threw him in the bathtub and armed myself with rags, gloves, a bucket, carpet cleaner, and bathroom spray. Let's just say the bedroom looked remotely similar to someone throwing up all the way to the toilet.
And when asked why he pooped in his pants instead of going to the potty chair, he gave his favorite answer ever: "Because I did."
1 comment:
Ewww...gosh, I would say "I relate," if I could...but we just didn't have fiascos like this. I think your little man is showing the true thickness of that skull of his!
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