Paragraph #6: The Shit Show.

poop

I’ve done some questionable things during my ten years as a parent.

Have I yelled at my kids? Sure.

Lost my patience with them? Of course.

Not changed them immediately after they’ve shit their pants in public? Wait, what?

Let me explain…

I was having a lovely evening with one of my favourite co-workers at the toy shop. At around eight o’clock, a woman and her three children entered the store. Right off the bat I could tell she was an odd duck; from the way she spoke to her children, to the way she treated my co-worker and I like we were second class citizens.

After asking a few questions, she went and looked at the board games while her kids ran-a-muck in the store. After about fifteen minutes, she came to my cash to make a purchase.

And that’s when I smelled “it”.

At first I thought maybe somebody farted, but the odour was too aggressive. I shot my co-worker a “do you smell shit” stare and she non verbally replied with an “oh God yes, I smell shit” eyebrow raise.

And that’s when I saw “it”.

When I glanced towards the general direction of the smell, my eyes locked on the dark brown stain forming on the seat of the woman’s youngest child’s khaki pants.

I looked back at my co-worker, who had also noticed the “stain”. Thankfully, the woman announced  to her children that it was time to go because So and So (I didn’t catch his name) had pooped his pants again. She then looked at me and said “someone won’t stop having accidents” and rolled her eyes. I gave her my best retail smile and said “it happens” and was relieved that they were leaving.

But they didn’t leave.

Nope.

My co-worker and I watched in horror as they stayed in the store for at least another ten minutes. As a mother and a decent human being, I don’t understand how you could leave your kid in their own shit like that. And to make matters worse the poor kid was visibly uncomfortable. I cringed as he reached around to his bottom and started fiddling with the outside of his poop pants.

Before leaving, Mom simply had to look at our selection of adult colouring books. While she was perusing them, Sir Poopy Pants did the unthinkable and reached out and picked up several of our stuffed animals WITH THE SAME HAND THAT HE HAD BEEN TOUCHING HIS SHIT PANTS!

I didn’t know what to do. Could I tell the woman to get her biohazard of a child out of the store? Could I classify the situation as an emergency and call mall security? Or 911? It was a literal shit show. All I ended up doing was staring at Shit Boy in shocked silence while taking a mental inventory of everything he touched.

When they finally left my co-worker and I were so confused when instead of going directly to the clearly marked bathrooms across the hall, THEY TURNED IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION!

WHERE THE HELL WERE THEY GOING???

WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN MORE IMPORTANT THAN DEALING WITH THE FUCKING SHIT SHOW?

I pondered this for a split second before sprinting to the back room to grab the Lysol wipes. My co-worker and I went to town on EVERY surface that was in close proximity to where Mr. Faecal Fingers was playing. After we were done, I must have washed my hands over a dozen times. And if I’m being completely honest, I seriously thought about giving myself a Lysol bath.

SO GROSS!

I am far from being a perfect parent, but you better believe that if any of my kids ever shit their pants in public, I will deal with it URGENTLY.

I’d like to dedicate tonight’s paragraph to the three stuffed animals that lost their lives during last night’s “incident”. I hope they have found peace in the trash bag where they were thrown. The horrors of poop hands can’t harm them any more.

Thanks for reading and see you tomorrow!

NFred.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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