A Daddy’s Halloween
Not too long ago, J and the kids met me at a hamburger place for lunch. I love it when they meet me for lunch. It gives me a nice break in the middle of the day, and I get to eat something other than Lean Cuisine. This time, the kids were in fine spirits and we were having a really good time.
About halfway through the meal, however, things took a turn for the worse. C stood up on his seat and said “Uh-oh! I’m going to go poopy!”
When you’re a dad there’s really only one reaction to this: I grabbed him and ran off to the bathroom, carrying him in one arm and using the other to navigate through doors and people and so forth.
What I didn’t do was grab the bag of baby supplies (wipes, diapers, etc.). Rookie mistake, that I’m fairly sure I’ll never make again.
In any case, the bathroom was empty when we arrived. I rushed into a stall, pulled C’s pants down and sat him on the toilet. We made it with no accidents. We high fived, and then he got down to business.
Unfortunately, this particular business was very difficult. He pushed and pushed and grunted and strained.
“Ohhhh… It’s hard!”
I tried to be reassuring, saying things like “You’re doing fine” and “just relax”, but he was really working hard and I’ll admit that I was a bit worried.
“No…it’s hard to do it!” His face was red from the strain. “I’m trying to squeeze the poopie out!”
“It’s okay,” I said. “Just keep going. You’re doing fine.”
He continued pushing and groaning for several minutes and then he looked hopefully up at me. “Help me, daddy?”
Uh oh, now we’re really in scary territory.
“Uh.. I can’t. This is something you have to do yourself.” I peeked behind him, and he was in the process of producing the biggest log I’d ever seen. I tried to look reassuring. “You can do it.”
He pushed a bit more and then “please, daddy? please? you can help me? It’s so hard to do!”
“I’d like to, but there’s nothing I can – “
“Please, daddy! Please!”
There I was, standing in a grungy bathroom stall with no supplies, no cell phone, and no way of getting help. My three year old was in trouble and practically wailing for me to pull a humongous poo out of his backside.
What would you do?
Think carefully, because that’s where I’m leaving you in this scary tale: no hope of rescue, no way out. Just you and the poo.