Why is it that every time you have a toddler out in public they poop?  I swear you can be home and just change a dirty diaper…take that same child out in public and he will have saved a little for the outing.  I took The Precious to the play land at McDonald’s tonight.  We weren’t there 5 minutes before he had pooped his pants.  I asked him, “did you poo poo?” and that precious little liar looked at me with his big blue eyes and said “NO!”  I told him to let me check and he ran like his butt was on fire.  My daughter-in-law asked me if I had taken an extra diaper and I told her that I hadn’t.  I just let the little stinker (and I mean that literally) play with a load in his diaper.  Needless to say not to many children wanted to play with him. 

It doesn’t help that he is a bossy little thing.  When he was in the playland a smaller child came up to him and he chattered like a mouthy chipmunk and the only thing I understood was “no, baby”.  When I told him that the baby had every right to play in the tree house he looked at me like I had lost my freaking mind.  Later he was walking up the slide and a 5 year old came over to play with him.  He promptly told her “no no” and between his attitude and his odor she left like she thought no no was a good idea. 

It doesn’t help that he hates to have his diaper changed.  I mean that very sincerely.  He will scream and thrash about when you make him lie down to have his diaper changed.  It’s almost like he wants to be rank.  You know that can’t be comfortable…walking around with 5 pounds of wet diaper and poop.  You would think that he would lie still while someone was doing him a favor.  I certainly had things I would have rather done than deal with his crap.  Still, almost every time I change him he acts like I am performing some type of torture on the child.  I tried to make a game out of it.  I push his little head back down when he lifts it up and tell him to be still in such a way that he thinks it’s a game.  The problem with that is I only have two hands.  Between the changing and the popping his noggin I kind of run out of hands.  I change with one and pop with one.  Quite often he ends up with a thong diaper.  The other day both sides were so far up his crack he looked like a midget Sumo wrestler.

Many long years ago I had the same problems with his aunt.  She would only poop if she could hide.  We found her in all kinds of places stinking up the joint.  I think the worst was one day while we were at JCPenney’s.  We had the store shut down because we couldn’t find her.  We looked everywhere possible and finally my sister found her in a dressing room.  My sister said that as soon as the door was opened she knew what she was doing, but just in case she had missed it my lovely two year old daughter put her little index finger up to her Cupid’s bow mouth and said “Shut the door. My pooping!”

I guess the whole poop thing is just excitement.  I mean maybe there is something to that old saying “I’m so excited I could just @#*t.”  Maybe that’s what it is.  It certainly doesn’t work that way for me.  If I go out of town for any reason my bowels go on vacation too.  They refuse to work until I return home.  It’s pretty damned uncomfortable if we are gone from home for any length of time.  That year we traveled Europe for a month was pretty damned miserable let me tell you.  I was about to burst by the time we got home.  This makes perfect sense to me though.  Of course all my bodily functions should be much slower than his.  I am slower than him.  Usually I am much, much slower after he has visited for awhile.

As soon as we got home from McDonald’s I told him it was time to change his diaper.  The fit began about 1 second after I said diaper.  I poured him a sippy cup full of chocolate milk, turned on Lady and The Tramp and after pinning my nose and donning plastic gloves I went in for the clean up.  I had to try and clean his butt while he was twisting and turning and raising six kinds of hell.  Finally I had enough.  In my strictest voice I told him to be still and to my amazement he calmed down.  He was still twisting like a trailer in a tornado, but the screaming stopped.  There is a lot to be said for stopping the screaming.  Of course ever since he began eating real food his poop is like adult poop. It was a lot easier when he lived on breast milk.  Needless to say I cleaned his bottom, put on diaper rash goo, put his shoes back on him (don’t ask) and threw my hands in the air.  8 seconds!  Of course the rodeo humor is lost on him, but he did smile and say “all done.”  Then we were buddies again.

You know maybe I should have taken a diaper with me to Mickey D’s.  It would have been nice not to have the stench in my car…not to mention the close quarters of the play land…but I don’t know if I would have made him (or be able to make him) stop playing for a diaper change.  There was also some advantage to having the other children stay away from him.  I mean, if you are there with a two year old do you really want other children bugging you too?  It may have made the whole evening easier.  Regardless, I bought him big boy underwear for his birthday.  I really think it’s time to begin potty training.  After all, if you are aware enough of your body to lie when someone asks you if you have poo pooed you can probably sit on the potty.  Of course the underwear is Buddin.  I’m not stupid.  I truly don’t think he will poop on Lightning McQueen.  I could be wrong…time will tell. 

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