Daddy, I Pooped My Pants

Little Miss Poops-a-Lot

We were out and about during the Christmas holiday season…….. spending a whole lotta money to get not a lotta stuff. It was close to dinner time so we decided to eat out since neither my wife nor I wanted to cook….we had leftovers but they were….um… leftovers. My wife stated “we left the diaper bag at home, do you think we’ll be OK?” I, not thinking, and very hungry, grunted “we’ll be ok, hopefully they are quick.” The four of us headed to the restaurant, went inside, sat down, and ordered our food. Then my 2 year old daughter made the following announcement with an ear to ear grin: “I pooped! …….I pooped my pants!” My wife blurted out “she’ll be fine, the food will be here soon, we can eat, then change her at home.” I rebutted “What if she starts stinking the place up? It’s not like she hasn’t done that before. People don’t want to smell crap when they are eating.” My wife volleyed back “it will be OK; no one else will smell her.” Then the tsunami of poop rolled across the table and hit me right smack in the face. The restaurant was only a few minutes from home so I grabbed my daughter and we were off. During the ride back to the house the following conversation took place, similar to an old Abbot and Costello bit, only about pooping your pants and not baseball.

Me: “Hey, did you poop your pants?”

My Daughter: “What?”

Me: “Did you poop your pants?”

My Daughter: “Me?”

Me: “Yes you, why did you poop your pants?”

My Daughter: “Who? You?”

Me: “No, you. Why won’t you go on the potty?”

My Daughter: “Me?”

Me: “Yes you! Why don’t you go on the potty?”

My Daughter: “Change my diaper. Let’s sing the ABC’s!”

Me: “Can you tell me or mommy before you have to poop so we can get you to the potty?”

My Daughter: “Who? Me?”

Me: “Yes you!”

My Daughter: “Daddy, why don’t you poop on the potty?”

Me: “I do and so should you. This conversation is about you, not me”

My Daughter: “Can you hurry up and change my diaper so we can go back and eat? I’m getting hungry.”

Me: “Can you pllllleeeeease stop going potty in your diaper?”

My Daughter: “Who? Me?”

We finally reached the house and the enlightening conversation ended. I changed the “Three Mile Island” of diapers………the poop nearly breached the diaper core and came within millimeters of reaching the pants. We jumped back into the car and headed back to the restaurant. The following conversation on our return trip ensued:

Me: “It’s a good thing we ran home, that could have been a disaster.”

My Daughter: “What?”

Me: “Your filled to capacity diaper.”

My Daughter: “Who? Me? Let’s sing songs!”

Me: “There’s the restaurant, we’re almost there.”

My Daughter: “I peed.”

Me: “What?”

My Daughter: “I peed in my diaper.”

Me: “Who?”

My Daughter: “Me?”

Me: “Why?”

My Daughter: “I had to pee!”

Me: “We’re here! Thank God!”

My Daughter: “Change my diaper now.”

Me: “After we eat, our food is probably frozen.”

My Daughter: “I love you Daddy!”