So this weekend, one half of the dynamic duo, Marcus, (now 3 and 1/2) decided to start a new hobby. He has decided to begin removing his pull-up (because, no they are not toilet trained yet....just another speedbump on my twinned highway...) and in the great tradition of pissed-off chimpanzees everywhere..has begun smushing poop into any hard to clean surface that he can find.
He came running into the kitchen on Friday...at suppertime when I was just about to sit down to eat. I was starving, my blood sugar dropping, in a I will EAT YOU if you get in my way... kind of way. He is positively gleeful, naked from the waist down.... singing a made up song about his pee-pee being free or some such opus.
"I've got nuffin on!!! He squeals..." I think this is adorable until he runs into the den and leaps onto the couch. It is then I notice his backside, and legs and ankles covered in poop. I grab the back of his shirt and lift him vertically, frantically looking around for the scene of the crime whilst he is dangling and getting even more excited about this new turn of events... Poop Crane!! Awesome game Mom!
I locate the epicenter of the shit storm... the soggy sticky pull-up, smooshed poop side down on the carpet. So now I have a classic parent dilemma, what to clean first? The floor or the child. I am tempted to clean the floor, as the child seems perfectly content with his present circumstance... but I decide to give him a brief hose down before I get to the floor, in an attempt to avoid further poop travels through the house. I only give him a quick wipe down, getting the worst spots, I don't have the luxury time in this situation, so half-assed it is (literally...)
I need a safe place to stash the half-cleaned kid while I clean the floor, but this will involve having to leave the crime scene unattended, a perfect magnet for the other set of tiny feet scurrying about underfoot.
So I dash upstairs and stand Marcus in the empty tub, where coerce him into staying upon pain of death to his blankie, and fly back downstairs to get to the den before the other one discovers his brother's gift.
I get there and begin the process of decontamination. Now the thing is, I have a deep wine-red carpet in the den. I haven't changed it for the same reason I leave the ugly paint and ripped furniture in that room, it's the kids TV room and I don't care what they ruin in there. Also the carpet doesn't show dirt... the downside to this being that it doesn't show POOP either.
Picture it, I'm on my hands and knees sniffing the carpet like a hound dog, trying to find splatters that have been tracked from the epicenter. The other boy is dancing around my head and jumping on my back, while his brother wails at the insult of being left alone in the upstairs bathroom, naked and still half-covered in poop.
He proceeded to do this little act two more times over the weekend, once at my mom's house and once yesterday under the dining room table (oh, hardwood you say... nope, he got the fabric covered chairs...give the boy some credit..)
At least the chimpanzees I could send for scientific experimentation.