Because I Just Don't Talk Enough About Poop

Since Natalie has outgrown the blowout stage, I rarely have share-worthy poop stories anymore. That's a good thing, from my perspective.

Warning: don't read this while you're eating. It still makes me gag to think about this.

Last night, the kids got together and hatched a diabolical plan to poop at the same time, while Ron was outside, weed-eating. I had to launch Operation Poop Removal with no backup.

I brought diapers and wipes into the bathroom, since I wanted Sammy to sit on the potty chair after he was cleaned up. I removed his diaper, used a wipe to clean him up, rolled up the used wipe so no icky surface was exposed, and set it on the rim of the bathtub for the moment while I turned to make sure he was properly positioned on the potty chair (very important when you have a boy).

I turned back to find that Natalie had picked up the used wipe and put it in her mouth, and was sucking on it like she does with washcloths. *shudder*

So, after I washed her mouth out thoroughly with soap (I'm kidding, of course, although the thought did cross my mind), it was her turn for a diaper change. She flopped around like a dying fish the entire time, which is the usual course these days.

Then it was time to dunk the diapers, a step that normally isn't necessary, but it sure was yesterday. I lifted the toilet lid, and the entire time I was dunking, Natalie was trying to grab onto the toilet rim. I don't like her to do that, since I get grossed out with the thought of all the germs that collect there in between cleanings. I held the soiled diaper with one hand, while I used my other hand to pull her away from the toilet, just to have her back at it five seconds later. Sammy tried to help me out by tackling her, which resulted in a lot of woe and tears.

Fun times.