On Sunday night, my youngest child flung himself out of his crib and landed on the floor with a heavy thump, which I did not hear since I was on my porch tossing eggs at speeding cars. I know, however, that there was a thump. Revered Son # 1 came to fetch me with the news.
The poor little mite must have addled his brains because the very next day, at precisely 1:30 p.m., he removed his diaper during his nap, pooed wantonly and prolifically all over the cribsheets and rails, smeared the poo on himself, and then...he molded poo snowballs around two wooden choo-choo trains that he had inside the crib. The trains were barely visible inside their doody casings, except for their little wheels that poked out. With said wheels, he had run the trains energetically around the crib, no doubt with "puffa puffa" noises and various other sounds familiar to train enthusiasts.
For those who were worried, Stinky Teddy escaped completely unscathed.
The very odd thing was is that I at first intended to "save the sheets and trains." Maybe this is some deep-seated frugality I inherited from my mother, who saves five peas left over from dinner in a small Tupperware item in the back of the fridge, until they are discovered months later. I tossed the objects in the sink, poured a bunch of Dr. Bronner's magical peppermint Castille soap over the lot, and filled it with water. This was a very bad idea, as poo chunks rose to the surface and bobbed about. No matter, I was busy running the tub to bathe both boys. Did I mention that the older one also had a nasty poo in his pull-up? No?
As I scrubbed the wee urchins free of faeces, I kept glancing at the clock. It was now 1;40. At 2:00 p.m. I had a Very Important Appointment at the Sunoco Station in Larchmont to get the car inspected. That morning, as I left the "Let's Pretend" class at the New Rochelle Public Library, I spotted a police officer in a miniature car pulling away from my parking spot. I accosted him and it was soon revealed that not only had I fed the "wrong" meter (the one that was inside the white lines within which I parked---hello??) but that my inspection was expired. I pleaded, I wept. He was cold-hearted. As he went to pull away, I said to my children "Now there's an example of a not nice person!"
Something within the man cracked. He hesitated. He returned. Very reluctantly, he took back the ticket for the expired inspection (75 bucks) but left me with the parking ticket (10 bucks, if paid immediately).
I always knew, like Anne Frank, that people are genuinely good. Bless that kind, fat fellow!
After an arduous and sweaty trip to the police station, during which my children were run through a metal detector, the ticket was paid and I was on my way to a more successful day. But now, with the clock ticking and a small almost-two-year-old wearing "poo kneesocks" and a "poo hat," I was in quite a panic. I fear the cleansing was not quite as thorough as I would have liked, but I arrived at my appt. with a minute to spare. All was well. Our car passed! We played "Squirrel Family" in the Pinebrook Park across the street, as well as "Fire Truck Crew Putting Out Fire in Pizza Parlor," and went down the slide many a time!
On the way home, the offending child said from the back: "I go poo in my crib! I'm a-gonna do it again!" I feared the truth of his words.
And when I got home later, there was the difficult problem of the bathroom sink. Why on earth had I thought these items were worth saving? The poo was so encrusted in the trains' wheels that only a high-velocity fire hose could remove it. The sink was sadly damaged, a clear case for Soft Scrub with Bleach. I bundled the whole lot into a plastic bag and left it for our friendly garbage crew. Then I finished the awful job of "finding the bits of poo poo that I'd missed earlier."
Today, our babysitter reported that another attempt was made during naptime. Had the wee mite not been wearing shorts, he might have succeeded in his evil task. As it was, he only managed to scoop out some of his doody while still retaining the diaper. I may have to purchase several sets of new sheets at this rate.
"This is disgusting!" said his brother, and I have to agree. What next? I live in fear and trepidation!
ADDENDUM: While I was writing this my husband went up to check on the boys. The older boy had poo nuggets in his pull-up. During the removal, two nuggets fell out. My husband stepped on one and the child stepped on the other.