The Defecation Dilemma

I learned something new today. I learned what it means to go From Bad To Worse. I've learned it before on different levels but never on this one. It is a lot more complicated than you think but seriously, when it happens to you, you'll know.

It had been a long day. I was sicker than a dog with the flu and with a cold and with a head ache but all my kids were fine, dandy, chipper and energetic. Okay, I need to emphasis right now that I love it when my kids are healthy--I really do-- but I do NOT appreciate the days when their energy levels are more superb than mine. And today was such a day.

Everything was actually going pretty well, I must admit. Landon had gone with Toby to work (a somewhat rarity since he's not legally big enough to be on a roof)... lunch was finished... Alex was nursing (a somewhat rarity since he is weaning himself)... I had just built a sweet little Lincoln Log homestead for Janae to play with (a somewhat rarity since I don't usually play with toys very often anymore)... Janae was happy, content and entertaining herself (a somewhat rarity since she is, well, 2)... I was peacefully browsing Facebook having just stumbled upon a photo album of a friend from my childhood... when IT happened: my nose started dripping. (remember the part about a cold?)

No Kleenex was in reach. I wasn't about to use my sleeve, or the baby's sleeve. And just across the room a sterilized, clean, white box of Kleenex sat waiting for me to reach out and grab it. But, like I said, it was across the room.

I have a very able bodied 2-year-old (remember the part about energy levels?) so I requested her to fetch me a Kleenex. I put it in 2-year-old language and she fully comprehended her mission. BUT, she dawdled. And my nose drip started getting tickly. And that box of Kleenex was so tantalizing. And she continued to meander slowly towards the object of my desire.

While emphasising "Hurry." "Run." "Go faster." "You need to do it FAST." "When I say hurry, run." "I neeeeed that Kleenex now." "You do not go slow." etc., she continued her meandering journey across the room with my much coveted upon Kleenex.

Just as she was about to hand it to me (remember the part about my nose dripping?) she calmly began to wipe a mysterious substance on my Kleenex and then IT happened. (remember the part about going from bad to worse?)

The Worse happened. Things were no longer bad anymore. They were dramatically, drastically, disgustingly, defacatingly worse.

You guessed it: it was poop. All over my precious Kleenex.

No wonder I'm sicker than a dog.

(For the record, this child of mine has very little attraction towards defecating dilemmas, thankfully. But, her brother has a whole different record, unfortunately.)