Here is my story:
Today I took Beckett grocery shopping. Beckett, my dear, lovely, sweet, sweet boy. My sister called him an angel the other day, and even though she was comparing him to her damaged children at the psych hospital where she works, he is an angel. As much as a 3 year old can be an angel.
You see them at their very worst at this age, and their very best. They shatter your ear drums because you don’t understand what they are trying to explain to you. The next minute the two of you are cracking up because they said something really funny in that same cartoony, garbled voice.
Anyway, back to the grocery store, the setting for all of my good mom-dramas. Beckett led me through the store to the opposite side to find the exact cart he wanted to ride in. He then hopped on into the little plastic car on the front of the cart that makes it 14,000 feet long, and causes you crash into all sorts of displays and produce stands because you can’t see for shit.
After he rode around for a while, and I crashed into all sorts of food, he chose to sit in the upper seat of the cart, but backwards.
That’s when I noticed it. The earthy little glob. On the cart handle. And I took in all the rest of it as my eyes darted wildly around- up his back, on his shirt, his hoodie, all over the back of his pants, and my fingers.
My little angel, at 3 years and 2 months old, is not potty trained. Not even close- he is resistant and stubborn, but I know not to push him, right? Because if they aren’t ready and you pressure them, they backtrack. Right? Right? This is what I have read.
So when I know I am leaving him with caregivers- at the gym, or at his preschool class, I put him in a pull up, because I am optimistic and hopeful that he will do as I plead and tell someone when he has to go potty. I’m a silly, delusional woman.
And then I had to use the only thing I had handy to wipe away the majority of the offensive substance- a receipt from the last time I had been in that grocery store. It worked fairly well, although receipts aren’t so absorbent. I had a big decision to make then. Whether to leave immediately, or finish my shopping. Well, duh. I wasn’t about to leave the store without getting the remaining 5 items on my list, so Mr. poo-butt and I proudly strolled through the dairy aisle picking out yogurts and cheeses.
Upon leaving, I grabbed a bunch of cart wipes, because I am thoughtful that way. The moral of the story is that if your child leaks bodily functions on a shopping cart, it’s important to clean it off really well for the next poor sap.
This post is dedicated to all the non-parents out there who never tire of hearing poop stories from their friends with kids.