Verified... Poo Does Roll Downhill

October 31, 2009
Sofia wanted to run errands with me, Chris. Along the way, we stop at McDonalds for a quick bite. Sofia plays well on her own and played and played on the indoor tubular jungle gym. I was amused that she would occasionally sing one of the many songs she knows for the enjoyment of all the patrons. After a while I said it was time to go and that is when things began to unravel, although I did not know it immediately.

Sofia ran up the slide and into the tubular maze. I was content to let her play longer. A few minutes turned into fifteen minutes as she camped out in a big square room high above my head. She sits on the mushroom in the middle of the room, stands on mushroom, jumps from it, and sings songs. No problem. No hurry. I should have brought a book.

Then I see, through the mesh, the unmistakable signs of Sofia pulling her pants down. I march directly to her. “Sofia we don’t take off our pants here.” She looks me in the eyes as she kicks her pants off. Sotto voce, “Sofia, please put your pants on, sweetie.”

“I went poo,” she says as she pushes the diaper to her knees, confirming her statement.

“Okay, honey, pull your diaper up, come down the slide, and I’ll help you change diapers, okay?”

The diaper continues down. “Pease honey, pull your diaper up, we can change diapers in the car. We don’t undress in restaurants.”

“Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I …”

I recognize defeat at the first lyric. I climb to the jungle gym’s second level only to find myself without access to the Mushroom Room. I am lost; I am screwed; I cannot see Sofia or the Mushroom Room, assuming she is still there. Pleadingly I ask a seven year old boy on the other side of the mesh how to get there. I descend and go back up another route. As I approach, I fear she’ll run thinking we’re playing chase. I enter the room. Sofia is pants off.

She proudly proclaims, “I went poo,” pointing for emphasis.

“Yes, honey I see that. Okay. So let’s put our panties on.”

The poo is precariously situated in the diaper on the ground.

“There’s a little boy.” I turn my head to see the seven year old has joined us. My knee bumps the diaper on the floor. The poo falls out of the diaper and rolls downhill to the base of the mushroom. I retrieve the renegade poo with the diaper and secure the whole thing, put panties on Sofia and reach for her jeans. The boys’ mouth is wide open but never utters a word.

“Row, row, row your boat, gently …”

I get pants on, place Sofia in a football hold, crawl through a tube and go down the slide. The room applauds as I jump off the slide and exit the restaurant.