Let me set the stage:
I was picking up my two boys up from school. It wasn’t raining and they asked to play for a few minutes with their friends. I readily agreed; it would give me a chance catch up with some girlfriends. As I was chatting, I caught sight of Little Man. I knew at once we were in trouble. He was walking like the tin man [stiff legs and at a slow pace]. He had one hand behind his back holding his bottom. I watched the scene in slow motion and calmly said, “Hurry, buddy.” Then he stopped quickly and froze. [Oh. no.] “It already came out, mommy.” [Breathe in, breathe out.]
Quickly shifting in to crisis management mode, I gather my oldest and told him we had to go. “Why?” he asks. Poop in the pants. Is that reason enough? Living less than a mile from school, I just needed to get him home. However, he refused to walk. I convinced him to just get into the school bathroom and we could dump the contents of his underwear – so that he could walk to the car and sit down for the ride home. Thank goodness I wasn’t a rookie. It is a delicate process of getting a soiled pair of undies down cleanly. Score one for mom. Step 1 complete. Next, quickly home for clean up and new clothes.
Once in the car I quickly fire off a text to my dear friend who witnessed it all…
“Isn’t my life glamorous?”
Her reply: “Poor thing! This is why we drink!” [I do love my girlfriends.]