Tuesday, January 29, 2013

..."In a Timely Fashion"

***Warning:  This post is not for those with weak stomachs.  Serious "potty" talk ahead.  You've been warned.

It's not a secret that I enjoy a good cured meat.  People know this about me, and sometimes they give cured meat-themed gifts.  For Christmas, my friends Megan and Keith presented me with "Mr. Bacon's Big Adventure."  Think Candyland, but instead of candy, it's meat.  Instead of colored squares, the spaces on the game board are olive loaf, pepperoni, beef jerky, and corn dog. Strangely, the game says for players ages 8+. 



Each night after we put L to bed, we like to play a game with H for some "big boy" time - usually Uno or Blokus.  Tonight he asked if we could open Mr. Bacon.  So we did.  It's about to get gross.  Now's your chance to stop reading.  I'm warning you.  

Let me preface this whole story by saying that H can be a bit of a hypochondriac.  The kid would be thrilled to have a sippy cup full of any form of liquid medicine.  Tonight he kept saying his tummy hurt.  We placated him with "you're hungry," or "you ate your dinner too fast," and "you shouldn't be running around so much right after dinner."  And he was fine.  He's always fine.  L had her bath.  H had his shower.  They had their stories.  L went to bed.  We started playing Mr. Bacon's Big Adventure.

Captain America ready to get his game on.
I took this picture with the intention of sending it to Keith and Megan to show them how much we liked the game.

During the thrilling adventure through different meat lands, H came out way ahead.  He drew a card that led him to Gristle Gulch - right near the frying pan at the end.  As he was about to spin his last spin, he jumped up from the table, screamed, "I have to POOP!!!" and ran up the stairs toward the bathroom.  Then he stopped.  And we were all silent.  And he said, "Oh MAAAANNN!!!!!  It's in my pants."  

He's 4.  Accidents happen.  But not often at all.  We never make a big deal out of them.  B and I looked at each other and realized neither of us should have to go this one alone.  Up we headed.  It was a disaster.  I could not stop gagging, so B stepped up and helped strip the poor kid.  Long story short: I showered him while B did the tough cleaning (I MUST remember to thank him AGAIN for this).  He was changed into clean jammies and we were, I thought, ready to continue the game downstairs.  That's when this conversation happened.

H:  That bacon game made me poop.  We should have just played sling-shot.  (A "game" where we wrap him in elastic exercise bands, he runs, we let go.  Parents. Of. The. Year.)
Me:  Oh, Buddy.  I don't think slingshot is a good game when you just had diarrhea.
H:  I didn't have diarrhea.  That's in the potty.  This poop was in my pants.
Me:  You know how you couldn't hold it and it came out really fast?  That's diarrhea.
H:  Oh!  Because it was in a timely fashion?  That's what makes it diarrhea?
Me:  Wait.  What?!  
H:  A timely fashion.  The poop was in a timely fashion.  So it's diarrhea? 
Me:  I guess so???  
H:  Cool.  Let's go play so I can beat you guys.  

And he did.

In a timely fashion.

2 comments:

  1. Perhaps it is because I am exposed to other people's multiple times a day, but this story didn't turn my stomach at all. In fact, all it did was give me a serious craving for some bacon.

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  2. I was really worried that this story ended horribly for Mr. Bacon, so I'm glad everyone is okay.

    And add me to Team Poop-Doesn't-Bother-Me.

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