A Poop Story. Again.

There is nothing that can humble with the same flair as discovering your child has pooped on a wooden chair while visiting a friends house.

 

Yes, yes. This was the highlight of my evening.

 

We went to a friend’s house. Their three-year-old came running into the kitchen, asking for a wipe, because there was poop. The father of the house asked the mother of the house to follow up on that because he believed her when she said there was poop.

 

It was a difference of opinion, as the mother of the house couldn’t quite believe there would be poop around that her three-year-old would need a wipe to clean up.

 

The mother of the house disappeared about the time Tres rounded the corner with her dress up and her underwear down, showing me that, without a doubt, she had pooped in her underwear.

 

In the process she had also doused a wooden chair with poop. Which the mother of the house cleaned up because she was already en route to discover why her three-year-old needed wipes when I was approached by my daughter celebrating the full moon.

 

Yes, she was mooned everyone in the house and  good percentage of the elk population of the area (assuming the elk were spying on our doings from the woods).

 

Proud, proud moments.

 

“What happened?!” I exclaimed as I took her to the bathroom and took care of her filthy underwear. “You know to use the potty!”

 

“I got surprised,” was her response.

 

And I can’t really blame her because most everyone gets surprised by a bowel movement at least once in their lives. But, really? Did it have to happen tonight? On a wooden chair, too?!

 

At least the three-year-old knew what to do… get the wipes and save the day.