Yesterday was the Friday of the this March Break, the last day that I got to be "full time mother" with my children. I wanted this special time to be memorable.
I took the kids to Friend D's house. Little R went to the toilet several times while we were there, and unfortunately, he also went (but no toilets were around) during our walk home.
So, when we finally reached home, I took all his clothes off of him. Then I had to put my daughter to bed since she fell asleep on the way home. Then I wiped the little guy of his urine then proceeded to get some clothes for him. While I was still getting some pants from his dresser, I heard "plop plop." "Oh, no!" I thought, he's throwing rocks or something heavy into the toilet!
Oh, but as I emerged from his bedroom and spied into the hallway, I saw a couple droppings of doo. Then into the bathroom I peered: he was standing innocently with poo smeared on his hand in front of the toilet as if peeing.
Amazingly, I did not yell, I did not fret - I just made sure there was no poo to step in where my feet met the floor. Oh, there was a huge amount of poo in the toilet, but cleaning the boy was my first concern. Into the shower I plopped him. Scrubbed him I did... twice! And then a third time.
Yuck, my hand was yucked by the poo between his buttocks - but what could you do? He had to be cleaned!
He thought it was a funny as he took his toy boats to play. I really hope it wasn't what he wanted - imagine pooing so you could get showered.
So I managed to scrub him. I then dried him off with a towel, and lay him in his bed. My next concern was the poo on the floor. Of course while I was inside the bathroom ripping some toilet paper, I heard the guy running out his door directly in front of the droppings... luckily, I got to him first! I picked up the poo (with toilet paper), I did... next, I had to inspect the other parts of the house. Well, in my DH's apartment, I found (smelled) the poo residue he had some smeared on the comforter on top of the futon. So that I had to wash next... when was husband going to walk through the door?
And I think the little guy was still naked throughout all of this cleaning done by me. So, what did you think of this story? Should I write him a bed time book to remind him of our last day together during March Break?