Fecal Matters

The following was originally posted July 30, 2009 at http://www.parentclick.com/BlogPost.html?id=1223:

There are times when you wake up in the morning knowing that something memorable will happen.

And then there are weeks like this one.

It started off right, on Sunday, with an impromptu trip to the Marion County Fair. Like a lot of grandpas, my dad loves to take his grandkids out, challenge them to take on scary rides (this year, when Riley backed down from Papaw's challenge to take a helicopter ride, Jenna stepped up to the plate and promptly lined one straight back to the mound, knocking Papaw Shearer on his behind), stuff them with lemon shake-ups, cotton candy and pineapple whip until they turn yellow, win them a ridiculously large (or small) stuffed animal, and basically show them the time of their lives.

So off to the fair we went. I should have known something was going to go down from Riley's first question to me upon entering the fairgrounds: "Daddy, are we allowed to pee outside at the fair?" I looked at him, his earnest eyes telling me he was genuinely curious, as opposed to those times when he'll ask me a question just to see my reaction.

"No," I said. "You have to find the bathroom." And off we went, to ride go-karts and ponies and tilt-a-whirls and bee rides and everything else. We'd been there for better than an hour, with additional relatives joining, including Riley's best bud Mikey, my cousin's little boy. We separated at some point, and reconnected just outside a stand offering giant corndogs and fries. As we stood in the gravel pondering our next move (we were eyeing one of those car rides where the vintage Mustangs and Corvettes drive in circles), someone spoke up.

"Riley!"

My head snapped to the left to see my oldest, trou dropped just enough, a yellow stream arcing from his hip area down to the ground. It wasn't my son's first experience with public urination, but it was certainly the boldest.

"What are you doing, son?" I choked out in the most discreet voice I could. He looked at me like I had celery growing out of my ears, an unmistakable combination of "what does it look like I'm doing?" and "Please, daddy, don't kill me." His little stream died as we circled around him.

My uncle aptly noted that, since he had already started, the poor kid might as well finish, and Riley didn't need any other encouragement before he started back up, a small tinkle all that was left.

My cousin's wife was quick on the draw with the iPhone, and managed, I learned later, to snap a few pictures in the confusion, fortunately for you all.

* * * *

In the midst of all of this, Crystal and I have decided it's time to wean Jenna off the diapers, leading to all sorts of madness around the house, as she scampers bottomless around the living room, checking out Brobee and Foofah rockin' out with DJ Lance as she potties. She's had a few accidents, most notably one that happened while she was wearing a diaper during naptime.

Crystal's friend has been watching the kids for us at our house, and I got a semi-frantic call that Jenna had a little poopy accident at home and I needed to get there to take care of it.

I got home to get the explanation: Jenna had taken her diaper off during her nap and pooped in the bed, and decided to create Poopy, the seventh "Yo Gabba Gabba" character. The end result was a pooped-out sheet, blanket and dress. The diaper was the cleanest part in the whole ordeal, as Jen managed to get herself smeared.

You know those salt people say when it rains, it pours? It was just tonight that I met Crystal after work at a local family restaurant, waiting for her to get off of work and join us. I had all three kids with me, and decided to follow Crystal's advice to not put a diaper on Jenna when we went out, to teach her better to be a big girl.

I can't say she didn't warn me, but within the first 10 minutes she'd peed in her high chair and threatened it was coming out the other end as well. After much squirming from both of us (and a fruitless trip for four to the restroom), Crystal arrived and promptly saddled our girl with a fresh diaper.

Two public pee-pees inside a week. Too much?

It's all in a week's work.