We're off schedule at Chez Bama. Late nights (bed by 8:30???, no bath???), weird food. As a result, Bama hasn't pooped in a couple of days. In a toddler, this can lead to a catastrophe.
And it did.
We ran a couple of post-nap errands. Back to the storage place to exchange some boxes (again), then to the store to pick up some fruit, some vegetables, and a whole lot of chips and crackers. After a cheery run through Berkeley Bowl, we unloaded groceries into the car, then I unloaded Bama.
As I put her in her car seat, I realized she'd finally had some kind of poop. The kind that literally explodes out of your child's body.
How did I miss this? No smell, no muss. Until the car. I was a quick mess, but I thought, okay, I've got spare clothes, diapers, and wipes. No problem.
I cleaned up a bit, stripped the girl of her shirt, started to wipe her down. Got her pants off, and holy cow, we've never experienced a blow-out like this. Usually it involves maybe a breach in one part of the diaper, but two? Crap.
And me, I have wipes, right? No. Two wipes left in the packet, a naked girl who is covered with tar-like poop that doesn't want to budge unless it's just to shift position a little. Then she steps in it. Seriously, this is like Mama-101. You don't let the kid step in the poop. Unless you're in the back of your Jeep, outside the grocery store, at dinner time, and you've only got one more wipe. Yes.
I get her cleaned up, I wipe her feet off, get her settled in the now-wiped-down car seat, call Mister, get home.
Dopo? He says. Yes, so much better than pho again. He looks down.
Is that poo on your belly? he asks.