Yet who would have thought the little boy to have had so much poop in him?*

This morning started out pretty well. The Boy woke at 4:30, but I brought him back to bed and, after one episode of Yo Gabba Gabba! and two episodes of Jack’s Big Music Show, he fell back to sleep. I think I fell asleep before he did, in fact.

Anyway, as far as sticking to a schedule, this was an ideal morning. We were up by 6:45, then dressed, fed, and out the door by 7:40. I was on track to get to work before 8:30.

Then, en route to daycare, he started whining and shifting in his seat… and then there was the smell. But as we were close to school, I wasn’t overly concerned. He settled down and was quiet, and once we got to daycare, I plucked him out of his car seat and let him walk to the building.

Since today is Halloween, the school is having what they call their Fall Festival. I signed up The Boy to bring bananas, which he dutifully turned over to his teacher, and because I was a little leery about some of the other things on the Fall Festival menu (Cupcakes? Donuts? Really?), he also brought a box of Mini Nilla Wafers. (He loves those cookies.) He gave the box to his teacher, and then I picked up The Boy to change his diaper.

All I can say is, “Thank God I didn’t have him in a costume today or I would have cried.”

There was poop everywhere. On his pants, on his legs, on his socks and shoes, on the bottom of his onesie, and, yes, all over his diaper and his privates. This was the kind of poop that requires a bathtub or shower to adequately clean up The Boy, and yet, all I had were wipes and wet paper towels. Ugh. (Note to self: Keep a washcloth in The Boy’s cubby, just for days like this. Of course, once I have it there, it will never happen again at school.)

Twenty minutes later, he was clad in a new diaper, a one-piece shorts outfit that I keep for his backup attire, and a clean pair of socks (borrowed from his teacher), and I rubbed Purell all over his arms and legs to make sure he was at least sanitized (since I couldn’t be certain he was clean).

One thing that cracked me up was that one of the teachers told me to wear these plastic gloves while I was changing him. So, I obliged (it’s their rules, after all), but after just a few seconds, I realized that I couldn’t get a good enough grip on the wipes to adequately get anything off The Boy’s legs, so I tossed them. I don’t wear gloves at home, and I’ve dealt with far worse poops than this one at home, so I think I’ll survive.

Oh, but this particular poop… I washed my hands at school but could still smell it on my hands in the car. I got to work and washed them again, and I swear I can still smell it. I feel like Lady Macbeth, only with poop instead of blood (and without having committed murder, of course).

*Apologies to the Bard and fans of British Literature. It’s all I could think of!


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