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Poop at McDonalds

It was stinking hot on the very first day of 2013. So stinking hot that our brand new fridge stopped working, and we couldn’t go on our planned outing to the Regatta Centre for bike riding. Instead, we were stuck at home with no air conditioning.

Hang on, McDonalds was open on Christmas Day (I know, crazy, right?), so of course McDonalds would be open.

“I want an ice cream cone, please mommy?!” Hannah told me. She does love ice cream.

We got our treats and went to the covered playground.

“A birdy!” Daniel kept pointing excitedly at the bird lingering on the fence, no doubt hoping for a bit of our frozen treats.

“A birdy!”

Despite the presence of many tubes and slides and things to climb on, the kids preferred the cubby house, with Daniel stealing my shoes and hiding in there gleefully, and Hannah pretending it was her ice cream shop.

After playing for half an hour or so, Hannah came out of the cubby house “I have to go potty, Mommy.”

“Ok, I’ll gather our things and we can go potty and then come back out to play.”

I found my shoes and zipped up my backpack. “Ok, let’s go.”

“I don’t have to go right now.”

“Um…ok. Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

They continued playing, Daniel with his giggles, and Hannah selling me pretend ice cream.

A little bit later, she came out of the cubby house, a concerned look on her face. She stood still and reached behind her, grabbing at the bottom of her underpants.

“Mommy, I think I did a bit of poo,” she told me, looking at her finger. As my mind processed what she was actually looking at on her finger, I could see it moving steadily toward her dress.

“DON’T TOUCH ANYTHING!!!! DON’T WIPE YOUR FINGER ON YOUR DRESS! I’LL WIPE IT FOR YOU!!” She looked at me, slightly startled and didn’t move a muscle.

I grabbed the wipes out of my backpack, as fast as humanly possible and scrubbed her poopy finger with it.

Checking her underwear, I found a little bit of squidgy poop. Not much. Just a shart (you know, a fart where a little s%*t comes out). “Did you think you just had to do a toot?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s ok, sweetie, let’s go to the bathroom and clean you up.”

I carried Daniel while Hannah followed me, waddling awkwardly, as if she was trying to walk without her underpants touching her legs, and attracting stares as we went.

I didn’t have any plastic bags or anything with me, since she’s been potty trained and accident free for 2 months now.

“No mommy, don’t throw them away!!” Hannah yelled when I put her soiled underpants in the nappy bin. I didn’t really have a choice, I wasn’t about to have poopy underwear floating around in my backpack.

She put a new pair of undies on and we went back out to play. Poor sausage, it’s hard to teach them about sharts.

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