Those are the words I’d hoped to hear on my son’s first time. Actually, it would have been nice to hear anything that was to forewarn me of the events that would soon unfold this evening at my parent’s house.
After dinner, we all decided to retire into my parent’s family room. Growing up the room was padded with marigold, 1970s shag carpet and coated with dark paneled walls, with the burdensome popcorn ceiling to match. Since, my parents are now considered “empty-nesters” they’ve decided to upgrade their house and for once they actually have a nice, distinguished home with dark oak hardwood flooring. It’s a beautiful floor and my mother is very anal about keeping it clear of debris and spills. Of course, having a toddler running around the house makes that a bit difficult, but never to the extent we imagined tonight.
So, back to after dinner…while relaxing, we noticed that my son had disappeared and appeared to be a bit too quiet, which we all know usually means trouble. My parents stayed seated in their recliners and I turned around on the couch to face the back of the room and that’s when I saw it happen.
At the time, it seemed to be occuring in slow motion and I could even hear the sound of my voice, deep and muted as I yelled “Davey, No!” But while it felt like slow motion, it really was much too quick for any of us to really be able to jump up and stop the travesty occuring in front of us.
Somehow Davey had managed to pull down his pants AND his diaper. He squated down and grunted a couple of times, before squeezing out a poop. One lump came out and yet he kept pushing even as I’m screaming. And while I’m screaming, he’s taking his hands and patting his little tushy while poop starts coming out between his fingers.
When I finally reached him, he had finished and immediately grabbed me with his pooped covered hands as if he was excited about actually pooping someplace other than his diaper. I was distraught for a few moments and couldn’t think. All I could manage was to ask my dad to throw me the diaper bag and my mother to grab me a towel and lots of wet washcloths to clean Davey and the hardwood floor.
As I’m cleaning, I imagine my mother getting upset (being the super clean neat freak that she is) and complaining about her hardwood flooring being covered in poop. Alas, she just stood above me with her arms crossed as I put a clean diaper on Davey and said, “Hmmm…you think now’s a good time to potty train?”
Indeed I do, Mother! Indeed I do!