So, several weeks ago, my husband had a couple of weeks off work for a trip we were supposed to take. We ended up coming home extremely early due to illness, so we took advantage of the opportunity to potty train our Child #4. You would think we would be experts. Heck, we’d trained three others, right? . . . Not hardly.
Fast forward to today. Child #4 is mostly trained. He’s dry all night almost every night. He’s dry all day, almost every day. The issue with going #2, however, is still being worked on.
We had a full day today with a homeschool start-of-school picnic and field day. This evening, the older four children were out playing with friends in the neighborhood when Child #2 comes rushing into me with an emergency: Child #4 has just taking care of his business in his shorts and it is running down his leg – and he’s in the neighbor’s yard.
I grab the baby, quickly exit the house and put the baby in the stroller for Child #1 to watch. I grab Child #4 and carry him, crying/screaming (alternately for his father and for the other kids to “go ‘way!”) back to the house, remove his shoes, and take him to get cleaned up.
I quickly realized that the last time he went potty, he didn’t put his “big boy pants” back on, so there was nothing to stop the bodily fluids. Good news: His underwear was clean. The bad news: He needed a bath. His shorts needed a complete cleaning prior to the wash. Then, I needed to bleach the tub.
When I came back outside with my spray bottle of bleach and water to clean up the neighbor’s stone walkway, the neighbor-father was already spraying down the area with a hose.
My husband arrived and asked what was going on. I filled him in. His reply?
“You have $h!) on your shirt. . . . This is why we are considered the White Trash of the neighborhood.”