Bri's Unforgettable Morning

This happened a couple of months ago but I couldn't resist posting it. I laugh every time I read it. My husband had a wonderful experience and couldn't resist emailing me about it. Here is the excerpt from his email....

"Well, this morning didn't start out too badly. The kids were in relatively good moods when they got up. We watched some Nick Jr. while eating our breakfasts. Then the "horror" began...

A couple of days ago Kyla's cup spilled some milk on the big blue chair in the living room. The milk pooled up in the crack at the back of the cushion so I cleaned it up with some water and dried it. I had hoped that none of it had gone down in the crack itself where I couldn't reach it. Anyway, I was sitting at the computer in the living room on this big blue chair and the kids were playing nicely in the playroom. Every once in a while one of the kids would come out to "see what I was doing", and to show me whatever they were playing with at the moment. Suddenly I would get a sporadic whiff of something horrible. I started thinking to myself, "Ah, man. I bet some milk got down in the crack and it's starting to crust up, and whenever I shift my weight on this chair I let some of the smell escape. I thought no more about it, because I wasn't about to get into it right then and there.

After a while I grabbed some clothes off the back of the couch and went into the playroom to get the kids dressed. I threw Bree's clothes at her and grabbed Kyla, ready to wrestle her out of her pajamas. Suddenly she starts going "Eeeew, yuck. Eeeew, yucky!" I asked her, "Do you have stinks, Kyla?" Then the smell hit me. I nearly gagged. It wasn't fetid rotting milk, it was our youngest daughter that smelled so horribly. I thought, "Well, it's a good thing I'm going to change her now." I undid the top snaps at the back of her neck and began to unsnap the legs. My hand brushed against something mushy and slimy. I examined my hand and looked in horror as I realized it was covered in brown mush. I quickly undid the rest of the snaps and pulled back the legs of the pajamas to reveal thick nasty poop covering Kyla's legs and coating the inside of her pajamas from ankles to waist! Her urine-soaked diaper had proven no protection against the explosive force of this colossal dump. You could see, by closely examining the evidence, exactly where the seal around her leg had failed and muddy crap had blown through to dribble down her leg. My first reaction was to rip the soiled pajamas off of her, but that required pulling them up over her head. Not only would her leg be covered in gnarl, but so would her entire body! Panicking, I scanned the floor within reach for something to help. I spied a paper plate which had recently held someone's waffle. I slid it over. Then I carefully stretched the neck of the pajamas as far as they would go and slid them over her shoulders and off onto this paper plate. Then I peeled off the remains of her diaper and added it to the stinking pile. All the while I'm holding her up by the ankles so only her shoulders are touching the floor. Fortunately she seemed to grasp the severity of the situation, so instead of fighting to get away like she normally does, she sat staring complacently at me while I tried to figure out what to do next. I grabbed the box of wipes and began to clean the layer of crust and mush from her legs. As each wipe landed on the growing pile of nastiness on top of that poor paper plate, Bree would pipe up, "You sure are using a lot of wipes, Dad..." I wanted to laugh, but with that gut-wrenching smell assailing me, I though I might puke instead.

Finally I could tell that no amount of wiping was going to get the job done. It was like trying to "clean" a dirt road with a washcloth. I asked Bree if she wanted to take a bath this morning. She was all for it. So I stood Kyla up and went to draw the bath. It wasn't until I had the water running and was adding the soap that I remembered an important fact about Kyla: whenever she is allowed to roam without a diaper on she ALWAYS piddles on the floor. I ran back into the playroom and was assaulted once again by the lingering smell. Sure enough, there was Kyla standing by the toy box with a confused expression on her face, and a line of pee making a trail through the gnarl on her leg. I screamed, "NO!" and grabbed her under the arms. "Get in here," I yelled, and set her on the tile floor in the bathroom. She giggled. "How come you wanted her in there, Dad?" Bree asked innocently, completly oblivious to the mess. I silently grabbed a handful of toilet paper and toweled off Kyla's legs as best I could, then dropped her in the tub. Bree went in next. Then I turned to the task of cleaning up the aftermath. I had to spray and scrub the carpet in the playroom, spray and rinse out Kyla's pajamas then throw them in the washing machine, and towel up a small puddle of urine on the bathroom floor.

So anyway, the kids are clean, the house is clean..."

Ahh the memories....