Monday, February 11, 2013
Pooped at Kindergarten Registration
Little K is officially registered for Kindergarten! It didn't come easily--there was a lot of mucking about to get it all complete.
It seemed to be going smoothly at first as I filled out form after redundant form, until the inevitable--we needed to use the facilities.
Little K started it, but Caboose hopped aboard as soon as K mentioned her need. While I helped Caboose, Little K chose a stall with no toilet paper.
I passed some to her with one hand, holding Caboose firmly in place with the other. Little K couldn't reach my TP, and so hopped off the potty and waddled to my outreached hand, dripping a glop of poo, which she then stepped in on the way back to the throne.
She was very apologetic. I was very kind, and the four lettered word I whispered was appropriate for the situation, if not for my mouth.
I quickly helped Caboose to finish. Hmm...Her diaper was very wet, should I put it back on? She'd already had a bowel movement, and had just gone potty. She'd be more comfortable without it. She is getting to be pretty dependable. I decided I'd put it back on in a minute, but help Little K first.
I washed the smeared feces off the floor with a soapy paper towel, put the shoe in the sink, wiped the bum, wiped the toilet and went back to deal with the yucky shoe. I changed my plan when I looked over to see the Caboose sitting with her pink little butt on the PUBLIC RESTROOM FLOOR!!!
Somewhere in my upbringing, I was given at least the indirect impression that nothing short of death and disease would result if any body part touched a public restroom floor. Eeewwww! My baby's cute little tooshie was on the floor!!! Another word quietly escaped my potty mouth.
MAKE IT END, ALREADY!
At this point in the saga, I glanced at myself in the mirror and reminded myself to smile more.
I quickly slipped on her soggy diaper, and started to wash her hands. No soap! NO SOAP! I'm sunk! Oh, no! NO SOAP!
OK, there was some in the other dispenser. Oh, thank you!
While I scraped and soaped the shoe, Caboose practiced her Braille on the commodes in each stall with her newly-washed fingers.
We eventually all had shoes, clean hands, and empty bladders and happy hearts to face the pile of paperwork ahead.
Five minutes later, Caboose announced, "I'm poopy! Come change me!" I sighed and filled out the final form.
Our choices have consequences. What if I had chosen NOT to rediaper? I shudder to think.