We May All Get eColi

Because there's no such thing as too many potty stories...

I have mastered taking a two year old to public bathrooms with a baby in tow. It requires a lot of balance and coordination to hold a nine month old on your hip and a kiddo on the toilet at the same time. Yesterday, however, we encountered a little hiccup in our balancing act. All because of a pair of tiny wet underwear.

We're at the park. I ask Mister Man three different times if he has to go potty. He says no. Finally, I realize he is a little wet. So we head to the bathroom. I have a double stroller that will not fit through the bathroom door. How do I change boy number one while keeping boy number two out of trouble? While shedding my oldest's shoes, socks, jeans, etc. I realize I simply cannot hold Junior and change Mister Man without at least two of us having a conniption. So I do the unthinkable. I put the (crawling) baby down on the disgusting cement floor. "I can be quick," I tell myself. Unfortunately, no one can move faster than my baby can crawl.

I pop Mister Man on the potty and grimace as Junior explores the swinging stall door and paws at the toilet paper roll. Afterwards, I start to re-dress Mister Man when I notice a little something on my hand. It was poop. (My own child's at least.) At the exact same moment, I see Junior pulling up on a toilet. And splashing his hands in it. He was very amused.

So what do I do? Wash my hand, or pick up my baby and risk him smearing the poo all over both of us? I try not to curse and run for the sink. Mister Man stands there bare-bummed, waiting for me to finish helping him get dressed. (Because there's no way I'm going to let him sit down on that nasty floor and put his own pants on. At least one of us is going to come out of this without a disease.) Finally I grab Junior - who has just put his hands IN HIS MOUTH - and rush both boys to the sink.

I felt disgusting (and disgusted) until we had all bathed. The end.