Adventures in Potty Training: Poop in a Boot!November 9, 2008
Warning: this story contains poop. Poop in a boot. It’s about as descriptive as snakes on a plane except instead of snakes, it’s poop. And instead of a plane, it’s a boot. Samuel L. Jackson does not appear in this story, but I was inwardly channeling him during several key moments.
It began innocently enough. We were at Barnes & Noble (aka the train store to Besh, since it has the giant Thomas train set in the kid section) with Gamaw. After reading some books with Sara, she approached and said she needed help because he had pooped in his pants. We’ve been potty training in a while and are not without accidents, so we were equipped with a baggie of shorts, underwear, and shirt. I took him into the bathroom.
Good luck! The handicapped stall was open. Not that we’re handicapped but we were needing some extra room to get cleaned up. So in we go, quick flush of the previous occupants waste (seriously, no flush? And seriously, no toilet paper after that? There are some sick, dirty people in the Barnes & Noble today…oh wait, I may be one of them now…), pop down the changing table to use as a staging area/shelf and unzip the bag. Get the tools of the trade ready–underwear, check; shorts, check.
Reach down to take off Besh’s boot (new Thomas boot, just bought yesterday by Gamaw). He steps down. I thought of doing something about putting his socks on the dirty bathroom floor, but then figured I’d take off the socks and have him wear the boots commando after. Then he lifts up other foot for that boot’s removal. Thus removed, he takes a small step. Where the first socked foot had been there is a now a bit of poop on the floor.
Besh: “Ewww! Poop!”
He steps back and now there’s a second bit of poop on the floor.
Step. Poop. ”Ewww!” Step. Poop.
Inward Samuel L. Jackson.
Me: “Besh, don’t move!”
“Daddy, look, poop! Ewww!”
“Don’t move. Just stand there. Don’t move.”
Grab toilet paper to clean floor. Poop on a floor does not come off with dry toilet paper alone. So I flush and use the cascading water on more toilet paper and eventually clean the floor. Then I remove the socks and put them in the plastic bag to be dealt with later. Bit more cleaning of floor. Then cleaning of the tush, followed by new underwear and shorts.
I look in the boots and see smooshed poop in the boot. His legs hadn’t been dirty. The inside of the pants hadn’t been dirty. As far as I know, the poop teleported. But there it is, poop in a boot and a barefoot toddler in the Barnes & Noble bathroom standing on a floor that no matter what I thought of it before was much cleaner than prior to my entrance.
Besh: “I want to wear shoes!”
Me: “Ummm, not this time. I’ll carry you.”
Quick game of airplane to the sink to wash hands and a ride home for a bonus afternoon bath.
Sara is trying to save the boots. I think it would be an amusing return story (“Look what you sold us!”) but we wouldn’t do that. Gamaw is giving the bath. I am amused.
And I am never buying used children’s shoes. Just in case.