Scatastrophe

All the poo in the world was smeared into my living room carpet last night.Ok. So maybe not ALL the poo. But it sure SMELLED like all the poo.

Oh, before I go deep into this, I’m going to be a nice girl (please be appropriately shocked) and warn you that if you are squeamish about things like stinky, smooshy DOODOO, then you might not want to hang around for long.

And if you can stand reading about it, but seeing a picture would make you toss… well. Yeah. I’m postin’ pictures on this here biznatch.

So. Have I thinned the crowd? Oh COME ON PEOPLE. If I see you leave the room, I SWEAR I’m handing out Atomic Wedgies.

And you there, mister. I know you LIKE them, so that goes opposite for you. No wedgie for you if you leave.

*points at misguided pervert #52*

Ahem.

So. Yeah.

By the way, as some of you will recall, this is definitely not the first time we’ve had a Turdrageous Experience around here. And it’ won’t be the last, I’m sure.

Anyway…Last night, I made the IDIOTIC mistake of assuming that since my lovely, sweet-smelling son had already massively unloaded into his diaper right after dinner, that another fecal catastrophe would not be scheduled for the span of about, oh, let’s say AT LEAST 10 minutes.

I took off his diaper, did the necessary cleaning, and decided that he could have a good long run around with no pants on.

See, Braden is insanely vulnerable to getting diaper rash – and when I say rash, I mean awful, horrible, make-you-want-to-curl-up-in-a-ball-and-die-just-from-being-the-witness-to, weeping, oozing, bloody wounds on his sad, poor little tender biscuits.

If you look at my kid’s ass the wrong way, it turns red.

So we always give him at least 5 minutes of air drying time… and whenever we think “the time is right” we allow him to run naked.

When your kid takes a huge dump, you tend to think the time is right. You don’t expect another one for awhile.

My advice here for anyone thinking the same way: Don’t be an idiot.

And especially don’t think this when you just fed your kid beans and barley soup.

He ran joyfully to the living room and began playing with his toys, uttering the sweet little Toddlerese gibberish and squealie laughs of baby happiness that make a Mama’s heart feel happy.

I excused myself to check e-mail in the next room.

I could hear his little exclamations of joy and discovery.

Less than 5 minutes passed, and there was a bit of quiet. Then footsteps.

He came into the room. So did the odor.

I made eye contact with him. He turned around and started heading out again, quickly.

“Braden JAMES!”

(I warned you.)