This particular day was just made of poop. I'm sure you have had those days. Metaphoric poop. Ya well I'm talking about real poop. The high pressure low density kind. Go ahead, Imagine it with me...
I'm dating a man who is recently divorced and has two kids. The ex-wife hates me with a passion that that burns hotter than the 7th circle of hell. And for no good reason. They were divorced when we started dating. Anyways this amazing boyfriend and I decided we would take his kids and my kids on a huge vacation- road trip. I'll write about that under the borrowed title "It was the best of times and the worst of times." Or maybe we will call it "Camping in the rain" So we had pack every stitch of clothing belonging to Nathan. He didn't have many clothes at dad's house and this was a 3 week trip. We were set to go. I was tasked with the job of taking Nathan and Avery to visit their mom and we would leave on vacation the second we got them back 48 hours from now. Now bare in mind this woman hates me and I cannot be late dropping these kids off. And it is as if Nathan knew that.
Unbeknownst to me Nathan is in his room struggling with a little tummy trouble. He's a little gassy. Not news to a 5yr old little boy. But these great balls of fire should not be wasted. So as he plays he feels the big one coming. This is like epic toxins and death getting ready to annihilate the enemy. No this cannot be allowed to go to the way side. So he jumps up and runs to Avery's room. Shes sitting on the floor playing which is totally perfect. He runs over and squats down. He pushes down with every ounce of strength those 5 yr old abs can muster. And he farts the granddaddy of all farts on his sister. She of course lost her ever loving mind. You have not heard such screaming. I thought for sure the neighbors were calling the police on us. I run to her room. She is laying on the floor still screaming. I fan her. I mean what is a mom to do? She’s been farted on. Its tragic. She recovers. Thank God because it is time to go. She is directed to get her shoes on while I go to speak to her brother. I feel some obligation to at least give him a stern look and discourage this kind of behavior. Plus its seriously time to go.
Nathan is not in his room. I can't find him anywhere actually. Then after searching for him for five minutes (did I mention we are now late?) I hear little sniffles coming from his closet. I open the door. For a second I nearly fainted. The smell. Dear Lord. It was really something. There stands a crying Nathan. Liquid lava poop running out of his pants, between his toes, and pooling on the carpet. Before I can ask he wails "I TRIED TO FART ON AVERY AND I POOPED MY PANTS!!) Tears squirting out of his eyes with such force they didn't roll down his checks like normal tears. They squirted out like a cartoon. I immediately start to die. It's self defense. Someone had to drive this kid 20 minutes to his mom and someone has to clean up the carpet. So my body just started to shut down. I considered crying with him. I also considered... Nevermind.
I called his dad. Who happens to always be at work when these sort of emergencies happen. I am NOT happy as I explain that I am late, I have ZERO clean clothes to put on the child because they are packed and of course they are in dads car. Where else would they be? Dad did the most helpful thing. He told me he loved me. And that I was strong and I good mom. And that I could handled anything. JUST KIDDING. He laughed. His partner laughed. They laughed so hard they had to stop driving. I hung up on him.
I did the only thing I could do with the poop monster. I sat him on a towel and we rolled the windows down. If only I had captured the look on his sisters face. We arrived at his grandma’s house and I rang the bell. I explained to Nonnie what happened. She gave that boy “the look”. She sent him directly to the bath. I made tracks directly back to the house to scrub poop out of the carpet and the give thanks that I had only one fart cannon boy.
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