The high price of cockiness

FAIR WARNING: This is a bathroom-related story. If you are squeamish, go read someone else's blog.

Last night during dinner, A suddenly announces "Poopy. Potty." "Really?" I asked. He repeated it so I took him to the bathroom, stripped him down and lo and behold! A big poopy. In the potty. At only 23 months. What a prodigy, right? I was so happy. He was so proud. We wiped, we flushed, we waved bye-bye to the poopy. We washed our hands thoroughly. He was smiling like a crazy-man and even D got into the celebration. Could it be the end of diapers? In my enthusiasm, I bunged a diaper on him, not really being careful about where the leg holes were or if the velcro was secure. We returned to the kitchen, I helped him back into his booster seat and we started to finish dinner.

Fifteen minutes later he made this weird little face, grunted once and then had the biggest diapee blowout of his life. I haven't seen this much crap all in one place since the last time Paris Hilton was on the news. There was poop everywhere - all over him, his outfit, his booster, the chair. Apparently my cocky failure to properly secure his diaper resulted in even more leakage than if I hadn't put one on at all. The elastics and velcros and whatnot acted as a geyser or funnel mechanism. Anyway, I had to haul him back to the bathroom -- no more happy, no more proud, no more smiling -- chuck him in the tub for a quick scrub, take off the disgusting outfit (thank goodness it was a really old onesie and yes, I simply wrapped it up and threw it away.) and then, since no one wanted to finish dinner in the Poop Kitchen, I let them watch a bonus TV show while I dealt with the booster seat -- outside. No mere paper towel and lysol job - I needed the heavy duty scrubber, half-a-bottle of Dawn and an equal amount of Clorox. You know how the straps on boosters and high chairs are sortof ribbed? Imagine all those little ribs filled with.... well, get the picture?

I asked him later, before bed, if he wanted to try to use the potty. He just looked at me sorrowfully and said, "No. Poopy chair. Sad." My sentiments exactly.