Well its that time of the year, the time of year to dress your kids up in Christmas outfits that they hate and drag them kicking and screaming to have their picture taken with creepy old guy in a red suit so that we can laugh at the picture for years to come. So goes the tradition with my kids as well; but this year took a turn that, to say the least, I could have never saw coming.
It started out as normal as any day in my life could possibly be, just another Friday at work. I get off of work slightly earlier on Fridays, so on these days I tend to be the one to pick the kids up from daycare. So, I pick them up and meet my wife at her work to have the kids change into their adorably cute Christmas outfits. My little girl loves clothes almost as much as changing clothes, so for her this was no big deal...candy cane princess DONE. My son on the other hand can see nothing wrong with wearing jeans, hunting boots, and a ninja turtle shirt every hour of every day, so getting him to wear a V-neck sweater with Rudolph on it is like trying to tie a snake into a knot. Alright, we've got one candy cane princess and a verbal agreement from a soon to be 4 year old that he will wear his sweater when we get there. (sounds believable)
We arrive at the mall and to my amazement, my son actually puts on the sweater. This may go better than expected.....WRONG. Wyatt ,although he has apparently lost his ability to talk, fearlessly sits in Santa's lap. He can not see the snakes and monsters poking out of his big red coat that apparently are only visible to his sisters terror stricken eyes. The excitement of my daughter to see Santa has somehow morphed into complete and utter fear for her life. Surely if she lets go of this death grip she will somehow get sucked into a vortex back to Santa's torture chamber at the north pole. No amount of coaxing or bribing will get this shivering child into the possible pedophile's lap, so this ends the seasonal photo op and the real story begins.....
My wife decides to go to the dress store and browse for a dress for her upcoming work Christmas party while I take the kids to the book store to browse around and kill time. They, like always, make a bee line to the train table in the kids section. I attempt to look around, while not wanting to wonder too far away for fear of something getting destroyed and me stuck paying for it. We must have been in the story for all of 5 minutes before I hear the most dreaded words a father can hear from their child while out shopping....."DADDY...I POOPED IN MY PANTS". That's right my sweet little innocent 4 year old son who has been potty trained for years has pooped his pants in the F-ing book store. So time to assess the situation. I calmly escort the two of them across the store to the men's bathroom, my son waddling all the way with tears of embarrassment in his eyes. His sister repeating his statement in her quietest voice, which could be heard in the next state over much less throughout the store, all the way there. We made it, thank God we made it! Ok, now we'll just throw away his underwear, wipe his ass, then he can free ball outta here like nothing ever happened....
WRONG AGAIN!!!! I untie his boots and pull them off. Then I undo his jeans and pull them down..... HOLY S#!T!!!!.....the smell hits me along with the gravity of the situation! This disaster just went to CODE RED!!! (a.k.a. where the hell is your mother) "Hold your shirt up." Pants off. "Hold your shirt up!" Socks in the trash! "Hold your shirt up!" Underwear in the trash! Whole roll of toilet paper used....out of toilet paper!!! "Hold your damn shirt up son!!!" "Whitley stop touching the toilet!!!" CALL ONE: no answer...... CALL TWO: no answer..... CALL THREE: NO F-ING ANWSER....CALL # WHO THE F KNOWS: ME:"Diarrhea Emergency!!!! I need underwear, socks, shorts like now!!!" My wife: "For you?" Me:"F-ing NO!!! Wyatt!!! Hurry!! For real Hurry!!! (end call) "Wyatt hold your shirt up!!! Whitley get off the F-ing floor!!!" whole roll of wet paper towels used!!! "Wyatt get your hand out of the toilet!!!" WTF!!! Not again.... "Wyatt get on the toilet!!!" "Whitley back up...just stand over there and don't touch anything!!" found more paper towels... (wonder how long that guy has been in that other stall? F-it who cares) "Wyatt stand up stop trying to look under the stall!" (It smells so bad in here, can't believe I haven't gagged yet, where the F is she at)..............................................(30 min later) Finally, thank God she's here. "Son your lucky I love you" "I love you too Diddy"
New clothes on and headed out the door. The twin's: "we wanna play at the train table again" "HELL NO!!!!" Done going home. Almost out the door....not again....your turn momma....they made it. Ok...now we're leaving, he's riding with me....hope we make it! At home, in the door. "Come on son we're taking a shower." "I don't need a shower I pooped in my pants!" Oh the logic of a four year old.
Behold, children are a heritage from the LORD, the fruit of the womb a reward.
(Psalm 127:3)
No comments:
Post a Comment