This morning Little V comes running towards me with her pointer extended. She’s wearing just bloomers, having gotten her dress wet at breakfast. She wipes her finger on my shorts. I look down. Said finger is covered in something dark, and there are dark streaks on her chest and stomach.
Yup. She pooped, stuck her finger in it, then tried to clean off her finger first on herself, then on my clothes.
Five years ago I would be gagging just hearing this story. Two kids later my reaction is a bit different. I change her diaper, which involves a fair amount of wrestling & laying on her, the latter to prevent her from putting the poop finger in her mouth. Then I carry her naked self into the bathroom to wash off all traces of poop. Ordinarily I’d give her an immediate bath but we had a vet appointment to get to. Last, I put her in a clean diaper and outfit.
The kicker is, I forgot about my own clothes. In my panic to clean up the little one, I forgot about cleaning up myself. I forgot so completely that I’m still wearing the same shorts. Eight hours later.
If I saw you today and you smelled something bad, that was me. Sorry. I didn’t poop myself or anything, it was just my kid’s poop, smeared on my clothes. That’s not so bad, right?