Who Knew One Day I'd Actually Consider Putting My Hand in a Toilet Full of Poop

The thing is that when I leave this place for too long coming back is hard and as the days wear on without writing, sitting down to write the thousands of entries saved in mah brain just gets harder.

So, today, I will write.

About what?

Poop.

What else?

When in doubt write what you know. Or whatever it is that they say.

I've been putting a half-assed effort into potty training The Baby (who by the way is 2.5 years-old and will forever be The Baby thankyouverymuchvasectomy!)

I've only been half-assing it because....I'm Lazy and I don't exactly think she's potty trained if I'm the one asking her a thousand times a day if she needs to use the restroom. No. I call that potty training myself. And, if you must know, I am already potty trained. Shocking, I know.

Half-assing it or not the kid is getting it. She is just a little lazy and hey let's be honest stopping to pee is just a pain in the rear when there are hundreds of Barbies who need haircuts. They are lined up around the block and The Baby thinks she is in beauty school or something.

Anyway.

Last week we were out running errands much of the day and The Baby had a bout of wicked diarrhea which is alarming to a mother who is Potty Training, never carries a diaper bag and might be able to find a few stray wipes underneath the her seat buried under miscellaneous shrapnel. In a word, FRIGHTENING.

Regardless, The Baby was handling it with poise. As soon as her stomach would start cramping she'd holler that the diarrhea was coming. Now! As loud as she could to make sure the guy who was hard of hearing two stores away could hear her. I'd quickly stop what I was doing and head straight for the bathroom. At a dead run!

I finally figured out that we were better off at home but not before The Incident.

I was meandering through Costco when I heard her. The Baby yelped and gripped her stomach which meant I had approximately 6 seconds to get her to a toilet before the explosion. I was in the back of the store approximately 2.5 miles from the bathroom. I ran as fast as I could telling the child to "Squeeze her cheeks together". Her response was to take both of her hands and squeeze her cheeks. "Not those cheeks, you silly! Your other cheeks. Your butt cheeks."

We made it the restroom with no pre-explosion a miracle of epic proportions.

No sooner had I gotten The Baby all settled on the toilet did I hear her crying.

"What? What is wrong?"

"The shoe. Shoe in the toilet."

"Uh. Oh."

"Get it, Mommy."

"No way."

"My dolly needs her shoe Mommy!"

Flush.

"Honey, Mommy cannot get you a shoe full of poop for your dolly. We are going to have to get new ones for her. It's too dangerous for fish for dolly shoes in the toilet!"

And, like you would imagine she can't stop telling everyone about her dolly's shoe that fell into the toilet that Mommy flushed.