That's the Poop

"Mommy, I have poopy."

It's every mother's dreaded moment. You're somewhere out, and you expect your potty trained child to act like he's, well, potty trained. You're unprepared. And now your child is poopy. Mentally, you start figuring out a solution. It usually means completely revamping your plans so you can take a trip back home.

 Me? I don't even get the notice. My Quinn (3) is smart enough to hide it. Smart enough to lie to my face when asked. Smart enough to refuse to answer when asked if he was poopy, for fear of embarrassing himself in front our pediatrician. And yet, he couldn't think to ask me to use the potty before pooping at the doctor's office. I was not thrilled.

 Our pediatrician's office, however, was well prepared. They had loaner clothes. Oh yeah. I got a circa 1979 set of polyester pants with a matching jacket. Now, being the grateful mom that I am, I plan to launder them and return them to the office. But I'm wondering if it can't wait until just after Halloween. They'd make a great costume.

 I walked in with three clean kids, a diaper bag, and a double stroller. I walked out with a garbage bag full of soiled clothes and a tiny boy who either needed a bowl haircut and a shirt with a big collar, or maybe a hat with a feather. He could be a 3 year old Huggy Bear. Oh,yeah.  But you know, kids have accidents. It happens. I could stress out and be upset, or I could calmly change him and put the episode on my blog so that when he tells me how much I embarrass him, I can show him how I've earned the privilege. And make no mistake, parents do earn it.