Operation: Kill the Dust Mites
Yesterday, we went to the mall because we recently found out that one of our children is highly allergic to dust mites and cats. So naturally, we began Operation: Kill the Dust Mites and went shopping for things to help make our house less offensive to his immune system.
I made a deal with the children:
“Mommy needs to go to two or three stores, and then you can go to the toy store.”
They were not amused.
In hindsight, I probably should have remembered that I was asking two small children who had been awake for approximately 47 years and had apparently stored up enough energy to power the mall.
Eventually, we made it to the toy store, where I had to explain that going to the toy store did not mean buying a toy.
This information was not well received.
There was a meltdown.
But then… PAW Patrol saved us.
The new PAW Patrol movie had just opened, and they desperately wanted to see it.
I said, “Sure! Let’s go!”
So we bought tickets, got some lunch, saw the movie, and afterward got ice cream.
At this point, I thought we were having a lovely day.
😂😂😂
On our way out of the mall, we saw a bunch of kids playing in the fountain.
Sometimes they let kids play in this fountain.
Sometimes they don't.
Yesterday, they did.
My children immediately looked at me with those eyes.
I hesitated because, honestly, I didn't want to be yelled at by some mall employee.
But then I thought, You know what? They're kids. Let them be kids.
So I told them they could play. We'd just go home in our wet clothes, and everything would be fine.
We grabbed hands and RAN INTO THE FOUNTAIN TOGETHER!
We were having the BEST time.
Then my children noticed some of the other kids squatting over the water jets.
Naturally, they thought this was an excellent idea.
So they did it too.
Now, here's the important information I did not know at the time:
O was wearing underwear.
A was not.
He had started the morning in a pull-up, we'd taken it off before work, and somehow underwear had never entered the equation.
So that fountain water?
Straight up the butt.
And A had absolutely no idea what kind of consequences he was inviting into his afternoon.
We played for a while.
Eventually, A ran up to me.
“Mommy, I need to poop.”
I looked at him.
We were dripping wet.
We were at the mall.
There wasn't exactly a convenient bathroom right next to us.
So I said, “Can you hold it until we get home?”
We decided it was time to go.
As we were leaving, I thought, You know what? This was actually really fun. Let's take a picture!
So I squatted down to take a selfie with my children.
And that's when A started screaming:
“THE POOP IS COMING!”
He immediately started doing that little toddler poop dance, grabbing his butt.
I had no idea what to expect.
Then…
Brown water.
That's it.
Just brown water.
Not much of it.
I stared at the ground.
“Okay. Okay. It's fine. Everything is fine.”
I took the picture.
We continued walking.
I thought, He's done. We're going home. Crisis averted.
HAHAHAHAHAHA.
No.
We got to the motorbike.
Now I had two soaking-wet children, a giant shopping bag full of our new dust-mite-fighting supplies, two helmets, and one child who had apparently entered a new chapter of his life.
I'm trying to figure out how on earth I'm going to get everyone onto the motorbike when—
“MOMMY! I HAVE TO POOP AGAIN!”
At this point, I started frantically searching underneath the motorbike seat for ANYTHING.
Anything.
I found a sock.
So I held the sock behind him like some sort of emergency poop containment device and thought:
Okay. If something happens, I've got a sock.
Something happened.
More brown water.
This time, thicker.
I stared at it and thought:
Surely THAT was it.
I found O's water bottle, used the water to rinse my child as best I could, and tried to get everyone situated on the motorbike.
And then came the words I never wanted to hear again:
“Mommy… I have to poop AGAIN.”
And this time…
It wasn't brown water.
It was the full evacuation.
The entire colon had apparently filed for immediate departure.
Right there.
In the mall parking lot.
When he was finally finished, A looked at me and calmly said:
“I feel better.”
😂
YES, A.
I'M SURE YOU DO.
Meanwhile, I had poop on my child's shorts, legs, and Crocs.
I had nothing to properly wipe him down with.
I had two soaking-wet children.
A giant shopping bag.
A motorbike.
And absolutely no plan.
I looked to my left.
A cleaning lady was coming.
I looked to my right.
People were walking toward us.
And I realized I had exactly one option:
GET OUT.
So I plopped both children onto the motorbike and drove away.
As we left, I could hear people walking past saying:
“Ewwwwww!”
And honestly?
I couldn't even care.
I had done my best.
I felt terrible for the poor person who was going to have to clean up what had just happened, but at that point, survival had taken over.
On the way home, we discussed the important life lesson we had learned that day:
When water shoots up your butt… eventually, something is going to shoot back out.
So I think we can safely say that particular fountain activity will NEVER be repeated.
We got home.
We took family showers.
We washed the laundry.
And eventually, everything was clean and looked exactly like nothing had ever happened.
Except we will remember it forever.
Because this wasn't just a family outing.
This was a core memory.
And somewhere in the history of that mall, there is a cleaning lady who will probably never know the full story behind the mysterious poop fountain incident.
You're welcome. 😂💩
