The scene: we're at a friends house. A glorious new condominium that the likes of Pinterest was created for. After a long weekend full of 16 hour work days and a long day at the office, it was a highlight of our stay in Boston. I'm not quite sure if by the end of the evening it was the highlight of their weekend.
To review, the characters include:
- The ball & chain - the husband.
- Yours truly - me.
- The kid - 4 year old, on the move and in vacation mode 3 days and counting at the point of the story.
- The baby - 7 months old and unpredictable as the day is long.
- Jez - a friend with whom despite having many differences with, you would be surprised at the amount of things we say, think, or even choose to wear on any given day that is identical. Sometimes on purpose, so what we have the same duvet cover, most times by accident.
- Chris #6 - Jez' husband and the 6th Chris in our life. When in doubt, if you want to know what some one's name is, it's likely Chris.
In observing all that goes into the baby stage, especially when it comes to feeding the little bugger Chris #6 asked a puzzling question: "At what point can you sit down and eat dinner together?" The ball & chain answered confidently, "We eat dinner together every night, just about." However that really wasn't the question. He clarified, "When do get to use both hands?" We laughed. I don't think it was a joke. We answered something to the effect of:"Well. L is 4 years old and we're still waiting."
We show up and JJ starts spitting up (aka vomiting) all over their glorious new bamboo floors. Note to self: bamboo sure does clean up nice and easy. That's count 1 for the trifecta. Fast forward, there is eating, drinking, and being merry. We had sous vide pork, as you do when you dine with a fancy pants chef in disguise. You didn't know what that is either, do you? About 20 minutes into the meal, the kid excuses herself. She heads to the bathroom which is dangerously close to the meal. I don't worry, but I do notice how close it is when we hear her murmur, "Wow. That bread sure is spicy."
The bread was not spicy.
We all laugh and when I ask if she needs help (parent lingo for, "Are you going to poop?") she declines and announces she just has to pee. That's 2 in the count to trifecta.
5 minutes later she gets up from the table, again, and goes to the bathroom. Someone makes a joke about the "spicy bread" and I silently hope for the best. As the adults giggle our way through dinner, the kid can hear us commenting on the effects of spicy bread and she wants to set the record straight. Despite her being able to just tell it like it is, she screams it - to make sure no one is confused.
"I'M NOT POOPING! I'M JUST FARTING!!!!"
You'd think that's 3 in the count to trifecta, but it's not. Let's call it 2.5.
On an aside? While I could have gone without the screaming like a lunatic about her flatulence, it was a proud mama moment. For years we've been telling her, rather than letting it rip at the dinner table (or any table, hall, or room for that matter), excuse yourself to the bathroom. She did it! Proud. Mama. Moment. You know who wasn't as proud? Chris #6. Homeboy was starting to loose the color in his cheeks, and I don't think it was the spicy bread.
P.S. The bread? It totally wasn't spicy.
So, post "I'M NOT POOPING! I'M JUST FARTING!!!!" we settle down and the adults continue to eat. A few minutes later and home girl leaves the table, again, to make her way to the bathroom. Again. Let the spicy bread jokes ensue.
But then shit got real.
"Um. I need some help. Daddy! I pooped on my leg."
Chris #6 goes ghost white and I'm pretty sure his desire to procreate left the building. The ball & chain goes and helps the kid out and since we apparently have a mic in the bathroom, we could hear the whole thing.
The kid, "I just kept going to the bathroom. I wanted to look. I was curious."
Apparently the spicy bread got her, so when she went to go and look - well, she got poop on her leg. As you do. To make matters worse (because it had to get worse), she got nervous and she pulled up her pants. Awesome.
"Luckily" we were traveling with a year's worth of clothing, so the costume change was painless. The look on Chris #6's face? Not so much.
We're going to San Diego in a few months. We told L all about the San Diego zoo and all the animals we'll see. We're pumped. Jez & Chris #6 just got back from Australia. L was looking through their pictures. She came up on Kola bears, as you do. Her natural and no nonsense response? "Oh you went to the San Diego zoo, too? That's nice."
So yea, we're going to Australia aka, the San Diego zoo soon - and God willing? There will be no pooping on any legs. A girl can dream.
The next day Jez left me a voice mail. L loved it.
"Hey it's Jez. Call me back. I pooped on my leg."
The only issue? Since this was a favorite story to tell from place to place on our journey, L loves to tell it. It gets a big laugh. Slight issue though, she doesn't introduce the concept or set up the story. So her version? It goes like this:
"And then Mama's friend Jez left a message. It was so funny. OK I'll tell you. 'Hey it's Jez. Call me back. I pooped on my leg!!!' And then I was in the bathroom and I said: 'I'M NOT POOPING! I'M JUST FARTING!!!!'"
We are going to work on the story telling. It can only go up from here.