Life with a two-year old is kind of a wild ride. Every day we see new little spurts of independence develop . . . Jude wants to put on his own shoes, climb in and out of the tub by himself, and sit up on a stool for meals with "Sissa" instead of in his high chair.
And then there is the naked issue.
Just like his sister, Jude much prefers to be naked over being clothed. I have two tiny little nudists on my hands. "Fine, but you have to put on some clothes if you want to go outside."
Choose your battles, right?
Saturday morning I sent Jude outside to play with his cousins (fully dressed), and of course he came in soaking wet from playing in our teensy kiddy pool full of rain water. Next favorite thing besides being naked? Playing in water. Any water, anywhere, anytime.
No biggie, I stripped Jude down to his skivvies (translation: diaper) and headed upstairs to grab him some new clothes. Figured I'd use the bathroom while I was up there, and a scant 60 seconds or so later I was back downstairs.
Let me tell you, a LOT can happen in 60 seconds.
I walked back into the kitchen to find Jude exactly where I left him, except naked. And . . . sniff, sniff . . . smelling slightly foul.
Turned Jude around and noted that his naked bum is covered. And not by a diaper. THAT'S what the smell was! But where is his diaper?
And that's when I saw the poop plop in the next room on the dining room carpet. My mind whirled as I tried to figure out what my first step should be . . .
"Ok, clean up Jude . . . in the sink? Gross! But if there is poop in the dining room, who knows where else it is. Best not to move too far. Guess I can clean the sink up later. Sophia is coming downstairs. Don't come downstairs! POOP EVERYWHERE! There is only one thing to do . . . "
The loud cry of the poop-overwhelmed mom who doesn't know where to start. Standing in place and yelling to the skies seemed like the only viable option. Not yelling at Jude, although that was how he took it. No, more of a battle cry. An I-will-not-be-destroyed-by-random-poop-everywhere-on-this-beautiful-Saturday-morning! kind of yell. Which, I'll be honest, does sound a lot like an I'm-mad-at-you kind of yell.
Practical (slightly grossed out) ICU nurse mom finally got her stuff together and swung into action.
Poopy shoes (how did he still have his shoes on?!) off, dishes emptied into the other side of the sink, Jude slathered with Palmolive and sprayed down. Naked boy diapered and clothed, plopped into the high chair so as to immobilize, and chocolate animal crackers doled out.
By this point Sophia had come downstairs, and was pointing out the various piles of poop between gags.
"Oh, Mama! There's poop on the floor! *gag, gag* Gross! There's more! Why did Jude poop on the floor?!"
In an attempt to make the whole thing more fun and less gag-gy, I told Sophia:
"Time to go on a Poop Scavenger Hunt! What is the prize? What more do you need than the thrill of the chase?! But be careful where you walk . . . and tell Mama if you see any, I don't want you to try to clean it!"
Off we went, me armed with wet wipes, rags, and some good ole' all purpose cleaner.
You know that comic "The Family Circle" where that annoying Billy goes on these ridiculous adventures and you have to follow the dotted line (oh, ha ha, he went over the gate and thru the kitchen and under the car . . .)? I have always figured those for fillers when the comic writer ran out of real material. But it turns out, Billy's antics are a remarkably accurate depiction of what went on with diaper-less Jude.
Jude is nothing if not thorough.
It seems that Jude started in the kitchen before scampering into the dining room and making a full circuit of the dinner table. He then moved on to the living room, trying on one of Sophia's shoes (on his already shod foot), taking a climb onto his little indoor bike, and then taking a reading break. Bored with his book, he did another full circuit, this time around the living room recliner with a pause on the standing floor lamp, and then back into the kitchen. Once more in the kitchen, he decided it was time to get that bum covered, and pulled the diaper bag out of the closet, dumped out the entire contents, and attempted to put a diaper on. And that is when I found him.
Just call me Sherlock Holmes.
I may have the events slightly out of order, but can tell you based on the evidence left behind, that my scenario is pretty much right on.
I can also tell you that Sophia is a Mighty Huntress. Because she found the book, lamp, bike, and shoe, all of which I might have missed without her little eagle eyes. To give me credit, I did discover all of the floor spots and the recliner. So there's that.
All the while that Sophia and I were on our hunt, Jude was sitting in his high chair calling "Poo-oop! Where are you?!" Best Poop Scavenger Hunt soundtrack ever.
To his credit, I truly believe that Jude was trying to find the potty, as he has been making noises about wanting to potty train lately. I have mostly been ignoring said noises, as I tried to potty train Sophia far too early and it was a miserable process. But perhaps Jude really is as ready as he says he is . . .
The most ridiculous part of the whole thing is that I had just been giving myself a little mental pat on the back a few days before for not having one of those paint-the-poop-on-the-wall-during-nap kids. Let me tell you, at least the wall is contained. You know what they say about pride, right?
Just about the time that I cleaned up the very last plop, John walked thru the door, home from his invigorating run. And right about that time was when I boogied it out the door to go flea marketing BY MYSELF. It seems that finding an awesome old school metal breadbox for $6 (talked down from $7.50!) is just about the only thing that can erase the memory of the grossest scavenger hunt ever.