For Mother's Day, Alison requested that I write a blog post. I am certainly tardy (I get one free right?), but I will come through and live up to my promise. I can't promise that I will be as funny as my wife, but I will do my best to describe things as thoroughly.
I am a stay at home dad on potty training duty, you know this will have to be good.
We are sitting at the kitchen table eating lunch like any other normal day. I had just changed Felix's diaper and Miles into his 4th pair of Thomas underwear. The boys were "eating" raspberries by acting out the scene from Go Dog Go where the two pooches comment on each others' hats. A finger was capped by said berry and the time it was acknowledged that the opposing dog did not appreciate the sartorial brilliance of said hat, it would be gobbled up by one of my sons. Easy enough. This gave me an opportunity to eat some left over chorizo tacos that we whipped up on Saturday night. Miles stops mid-argument between the berries and says "all done." He gets down, starts to run around and proudly announced that he had peed. I glance over to spot a wonderful puddle. Success! At least if I am going to change some underwear I want him to have really peed and not just dribbled enough to wet the front. I go and get a rag while Miles gets some new undies. I ask Miles to pull off his underwear and he does and I help him put on the new pair.
Then I see it.
Having been to the Frosty Caboose many times, you can often spot a casualty in the parking lot. The poor single dip melting on the hot asphalt, somewhere between liquid and solid. You can imagine the poor child who dropped his precious treat only to have it lost forever. Salty tears streak the poor soul's chocolate-stained cheeks.
Yes, it looked like a melting scoop of chocolate ice cream. Miles had failed to inform me that he actually peed AND pooped in his underwear. Okay, don't panic. What the hell do I do?!?! I tell Miles to not move and I grab some paper towels. S#!&! Appropriate enough I guess. Miles moved. He stepped in the poop and sort of danced in a circle trying to get the poop off his foot. S#!&! I scooped him up and moved him into the bathroom to plop him on the potty (moved the rugs of course!) while praying that Felix would continue eating raspberries (coincidentally, I have no doubt I will see those berries tomorrow in his....). I returned with spray disinfectant and a pile of paper towels.
I start spraying only to find Felix standing on his high chair. S#!&! I get him down and quarantine him in the kitchen so I can clean. I see him run through Miles's room and I panic that he might go into the now contaminated bathroom (remember Miles's feet?). I hear pitter patter as I am searching the hall and Miles' room only to hear a crash followed by tears.
Worst. Case. Scenario.
Felix had run and slipped in the disinfectant spray...which just happened to be on top of the poop that I had not finished cleaning up. S#!&!
I put Felix on our Ikea plastic mats under the kitchen table and clean him up. I then put him back in the kitchen to finish cleaning the floor. He is utterly besides himself. Poor guy. You would cry too if it happened to you.
I temporarily abandon the initial scene of the crime and bring him into the bathroom hoping to calm him down while cleaning up Miles who is dutifully sitting on the potty like nothing happened. Felix will not have any of this. I have to put him in his crib to keep him out of the feces and the tub and can't let him run free (not that he wants to) because of the dump on the floor.
"My feet are all dirty Dah-de."
"Yes. They. Are." S#!&!
13 organic baby wipes later, Miles is clean (who would have thought S#!& could be so sticky?).
When does school start?
PS, this summer, with the exception of this incident, has been really fun and I look forward to more time with my boys.