For the baby’s 6 month checkup I dressed him up real nice, new t-shirt and funky jeans. Obviously ones baby needs to look as cool as possible to see a Doctor. Dr. good looking? No. Any other rational reason for the dress up? No. At this point getting out of the house constitutes a rational reason to play dress up.
There we are and there are eight million other sick people in the waiting room. I think maybe we should duck out to the corner store and get mommy a diet pepsi. THE biggest treat in mom’s life since nursing. As I am paying the cashier, a waft of smelly shit smell hits my nose. I look down and there is literally shit leaking out my son. It has managed to escape the following layers: diaper, onsie, funky jeans and new Tommy t-shirt. It is resting on my arm (the one paying the cashier) and is in danger of actually leaving shit droplets on the store floor.
I calmly pay the man and exit the store thinking “OhF&^K!” No problem, that is what the emergency shit bag is packed for. Me, baby and the flat bed of the SUV had a little meeting. Emergency shit bag is going to be a problem. Wipes have dried out and emergency sleeper is too small. There is so much shit it is stuck everywhere…I had to scrape off what I could with dry wipes (leaving a sticky, smelly orange residue) and race back into to the Dr.’s office to use the restroom. One countertop, a sink full of suds and 20 minutes later – we emerge still smelling like shit.
Moral of the story? There is none.
I Rode The Short Bus 