Thursday, August 10, 2006
Today I had several doctors appointments. Mark, wonderful husband that he is, volunteered to stay home and watch the kids. When I returned home everything was perfectly normal. Caleb had had his nap. Noah had been picked up from Summer Fun. And the other boys were playing happily. Denver came upstairs to greet me and I presented him with three suckers from the Doctor's office and instructions to share them with his brothers, which he happily did. He even sat on the floor with Caleb and shared suck after tasty suck with his brother till both their mouths were bright blue. It was then that I noticed Denver's bottom was all wet. When I asked why, he shrugged his shoulders and acted as surprised as I was. Upon further investigation, I discovered a most unpleasant find--a little bit of poopy. I came to the conclusion that he had gone to the bathroom and hadn't wiped himself very well. I took him upstairs and got him ready to have a bath where I discovered not a little poop, but a great big poopy mess. At that point I did what every mother has to do at least once in their lifetime--I scrubbed the dried, caked on poop off of his little body with my bare hands and then tackled the yuckier mess in his pants. At that point Mark suggested I just toss the pants but I refused since I had just bought him that underwear last week and special Superman underpants cost way too much money to just toss.
Once that fire was out, we returned to our normal routine and I prepared to fix lunch. Except that when I came downstairs I discovered Mark on the bathroom floor with the Clorox wipes cleaning up what looked and smelled like a bunch of poop. Sure enough, Denver had made quite a mess of the bathroom. As it turns out here's what happened--Mark had been on a conference call when Denver decided he just had to go. Denver doesn't need help going potty except that he likes to warn you he's going because he hates sitting on the pot and waiting for someone to help him wipe. So, because Mark was on the phone and Denver knew he wasn't allowed to interupt he also knew he couldn't make the announcement that poop was coming. So he did what any three year old would do--he just did it in his pants. Of course, three year olds also don't like lumps in their pants so he went upstairs and removed the lump single-handedly. He got that much in the toilet. Then, he wiped his hands on the inside of his shirt, which was the thing that totally baffled me--how he got poop on the inside of his t-shirt. When that didn't completely take care of the mess, he used the entire box of wet wipes to finish the job, which got poop everywhere. Then, he returned to the basement where poor Hunter could smell the dirty deed but couldn't get Denver to admit to anything. And now I just wonder, if I rented one of those handy purple lights 20/20 uses when they investigate hotel room cleanliness, how much poopy stuff I'd find all over my house. Yuck!
posted by Shana # 2:34 PM 
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