Disgusting

Happy Easter!!

That's Quinny's new favorite word and he says it with such disdain he really drives the definition home.  Last night he and his little brother had a disgusting moment together and it was disgusting (emphasize the disdain for full effect).  Say it again - disgusting.  Now say it with me, disgusting.  Okay you are almost prepared to read on.

There we were at the dinner table having a lovely meal prepared by our lovely mother/wife enjoying all the deliciousness of it and each other's company.  As dinner was winding down Q asked if it was a bath night.  We didn't think we were up to the heroics involved but our observant little fella did point out his toes were awfully dirty so we lamented and decided bath night, sure, how hard could it be.  Famous last words.  Like all decisions in life if you have to think about it, it's a no.  Just go with your initial instinct, which was no.  Oh, to have the moment back.

Everything was going swimmingly.  I stopped up there to check on them and the boys were getting along, Carrie was in full control so I swung by my office across the hall for I don't even remember what.  Next thing I know my wife is screaming and I mean screaming bloody murder.  "I NEED HELP!"  I mean a simple hey, can you come in here for a sec would've sufficed.  You would've thought I'd been missing for 10 days.  Okay, okay what do you need?  Dude, what is that?! as I point to whatever it was in the tub.  She's still screaming.  I'm searching my mind for any sort of memory that could some how do the offending object(s) in the tub justice.  Was it dinner regurgitated?  Did someone slaughter a small squirrel, like putting it in a blender?  While we were all enjoying our lovely dinner were we some how poisoned?  For the life insurance perhaps? While I'm categorically working through my noggin for what that and I really mean THAT! could be in the tub Carrie is still screaming at me to grab one of the boys. 

At that point Quentin eloquently solved the mystery by calmly stating, "Dad, Gavin pooped in my tub."  Oh, man! That is nasty!  It wasn't the good kind of poo in the tub like one might, gulp dare I say hope for? in this kind of situation.  No, it was worse than that.  I'm not sure I can come up with the proper prose to do this kiddie disaster justice so I'll leave it your imagination.  It was a first for me so hopefully it is for you too.  If not buy me a beer some time and I'll blow your mind on the grossest gag my brains out moment of child rearing to date.  And let me tell you folks we have some dandies.  Did I ever write about the car ride from Iowa where Gavin did...it's too awful to discuss but it was in the car and we were all in the car with him and we were a long, long way from home.

After we, the parents, the poor poor parents, the ones responsible for having to figure out what to do next- stared, marveled and unfortunately contemplated how one could clean up (gas masks, full radiation gear?) whatever this disaster could be affectionately labeled as we came to the realization that the boys never even got soaped up.  At that point the voice of reason overcame us and we decided bath time for Tuesday was officially closed.  See I went back to our original instinct.  Oh, those instincts. Don't ever fight the instinct.  You wish you were us don't you?