It's a lot.
Like, overflowing-in-the-car-seat-and-dripping-on-the-carpet-as-we-rush-him-to-the-tub a lot.
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| Don't be fooled by his snugly wiles - he's literally full of **** |
Five minutes, three wet wipes, 14 squirts of cleaner, and two rags later, I sat down with Micah to enjoy an episode of TNG and my much awaited chocolate Oreo milkshake (yes, if you ask they make the Oreo milkshake with chocolate ice cream). I had told my brother earlier that day how I hadn't consumed a milkshake in a while and had been avoiding my favorite treat, but after the day's hike I thought it was well deserved.
Then I spilled it.
I think I thought about crying for a second. Another moderately viscous (though normally highly viscous, it had been waiting 20+ minutes for me by now) semi-fluid on the carpet. But this one stung. I had spilled it and nothing I could do would bring it back and consume the delicious.
I was so distraught that Micah took the repeat round of rag-on-rug rubbing and I realized something important as I mourned my milkshake mishap:
Poop piling up doesn't really make life worse; losing the milkshakes does really make life worse. It's because poop can be disposed of and always is with a little effort, but milkshakes were meant to be enjoyed and, once lost, are impossible to recover and practically irreplaceable.
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| James likes when his mom reads to him :-) |
And yeah, even if he's got poop literally coming out of his pants, I love my little buddy.
If you commented with your best/worst poop and/or milkshake story, I'd be down with it.
Poop can definitely make life worse. For example, one day a few months ago Paisley got a "stomach bug" on Sunday morning before church. I valiantly said that Cyndi could stay home with Paisley and I would take our other three kids to church. Unfortunately, Fielding, age 3, had also come down with a stomach bug, although I didn't know it at the time. On the way to church he had a small poop accident while sitting in his car seat. I was able to take care of it for the most part, but I should have known that something was amiss. Sure enough, while I was trying to enjoy the sermon, Fielding turned to me and said "I have to go potty!" It was already too late. When I stood up to take him out I noticed poop all over my suit jacket and pants. That cost me about $20 in dry cleaning, which could have bought me several milkshakes. (Also note that poop issues will continue well past a child's infancy.)
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