My...Ummmm...Hero?

Blog posts are a funny thing. Some people, like Sue over at Happy Meals and Happy Hour are blessed with an infinite amount of creativity when it comes to blog post subjects. You only need to read her post regarding Pluto (the planet, not the dog) to verify this point.

Other folks, like me, want that kind of creativity, but find the daily grind to be a thief of all that is good in my brain. I go to bed with great ideas and plans, only to awake the next day with a full list of chores and an empty head, unable to pull together 2 cohesive thoughts as I scramble through the list before I have to go get the kids. So my blog, and my readers, suffer greatly.

Having said that, today's post is not all that creative, but funny to me and I think in 20 years it will either be funny or embarrassing to my son. Which is why I am posting it. Either way, I get to watch his face contort when he reads about what he said when he was 6. So, without further ado...

Today's Post:

***WARNING! This post involves POOP!! It also involves my child saying a really weird thing regarding POOP! So if POOP grosses you out, do not read this post! You've been warned.

The boys played in a local basketball league over the summer. A few weeks ago they had their last game. Little Man had just finished and we were leaving the gym when I felt the urge to go to the potty. The problem is, I kind of have, ummm...issues...with my gut. So when I feel that kind of rumbling that I felt, I knew this was one of those kind of gut attacks that required I be in a less public venue. So I figured I'd hustle home and deal with it there. We loaded up and I took off, home is about 15 minutes from the gym we were at.

The Goal: Get to bathroom at home as quickly as possible.

Plan: Drive like a bat out of hell and breathe deeply to keep everything relaxed and in place.

Obstacles: Old People on the Road (we live at the edge of a retirement community, in one of the biggest snowbird capitals of the world), traffic lights, unruly gut.

Defenses: Strong muscles, strong will, helpful child.

First thing out of the school parking lot I get stuck behind Retirement Rudy, who likes to drive at the speed of nothing. When I finally got around him I got stuck at the light. My gut is still rumbling, but not yet boiling. Light changes, moving down the road behind EVERY slow, old person in Sun City and I miss my left turn arrow because the Golden Girls in the car in front of me can't figure out the turn lane and just stop in the middle of the road. This messes up the 90 other old people in their golf carts and monster Cadillacs. Traffic comes to a complete stop and I watch my green arrow disappear. Now the gut is really starting to rumble and I am feeling pressure. You know...pressure. Down there. In the gluteus maximus area. I finally maneuver the bumper car marathon and get in my lane. I was sitting there, cussing the light and Little Man says, "Mom, you gotta go pee?"

I explain, "No Son, Mommy is stressed cause I really gotta poop and no one will drive today. I have to hurry home so I don't poop my pants!" (You couldn't have this conversation with just anybody, but a 6 yr old just rolls with it. In fact, they get it!)

Light changes, I screech outta there (safely screech, I do have my kids in the car) and am starting to think I might not make it. I verbalize this thought and my great, unselfish, always helpful Little Man shouts out his idea to help me: "MOM!! I will punch the poop back up so it won't come out!" Only a 6 yr old boy would think of punching poop to put it in it's place. I look over at his beautiful, smiling, innocent face. He is so thrilled with his idea! It never occurs to him that this whole idea is really...weird and icky. He's so solution oriented.

I look back at Big Brother, who is staring back at me with huge, dinner plate sized eyes and the biggest grin I have ever seen. He is on the verge of completely losing it. I still have to poop and am struggling to make it home in time, freaking out about the repercussions of not making it home in time! I realize that my response to this really weird solution, presented by my Little Man, needs to be well thought out...

So I blurt out the grossest thing I can think of: "Wow Little Man! How thoughtful and what a great idea! But I think I have diarreah!" His smile turns into a grimace and he looks at his brother, who is stifling a giant belly laugh, "I can't punch diarreah, that won't work then!" Big Brother absolutely loses it and rolls around all over the back seat, giggling and laughing and snorting...strangling himself on the seatbelt. "You guys are so gross! That is so disgusting!" It has still not occurred to Little Man that his ENTIRE premise was flawed, regardless of the type of poop he would have to deal with.

And then, slowly, the look on his face changes and he begins to see the errors in his calculations. "Mom, we have to think of something else...I can't punch your poop!"

Little Man and I are both laughing now too and I breathe a sigh of relief. I'm glad he got it figured out...punching poop is gross, socially unacceptable and down right wrong. And in order to do that you would have to...well...put your hand somewhere you wouldn't want to put it! Whew!! I was a bit worried there for a few moments that he wasn't seeing the BIG picture!

But apparently he did see the BIG picture, because his next comment went like this:









"Mom, your butt is huge. I wouldn't be able to find the poop!"

Thanks, Son. Glad you figured that out.


Oh, and in case you're wondering? I made it home. Barely.