A dad's duty

Sometimes we dads just have to tell it like it is. Pops Bucket related a story that reminded me of a run-in I had with poo a couple of months ago.

I took the 3 kids out to dinner to give the Mrs. a break. We went to Applebee's. My youngest, 3, was just getting the hang of potty training but I had her in a diaper to take no chances. Or so I thought.

After we ordered, she said, "Daddy, I pooed." "You mean you have to go poo?" I replied, hopefully. "No, I already pooed!" And I could smell it. Having forgotten the diaper bag in the van, I decided to take her out to the van to change her, leaving the older 2 in the company of complete strangers. I could see them through the restaurant window, but still I wanted to rush back so they wouldn't get arrested or something.

So I get to the van, pull down the diaper, and no poo. False alarm! Must have been a fart. I rush back into the restaurant, explaining to her the difference between a fart and a real poo. "But I did poo!" she protested. "It fell out!"

Oh jeeez.

Back at the table, the older two playing hockey with the salt and pepper shakers, I smell a smell. A bad smell. Coming right from under the table. People all around us are trying to eat their dinners, but I know they smell it too. As discreetly as possible, I collect the ball of poo in a napkin and make a beeline for the men's room.