10 Sep 2020

Weekends are great fun, don’t you think? I’m off work, the kids are off school and we get to do lots of fun things, like days out making memories.

That’s when I’m not spending my time doing the less fun things like cutting the grass, doing DIY (after my wife has told me to do it so many times she’s starting the threaten me with divorce) and of course clearing up untold amounts of Lego from every nook and cranny you can possibly think of.

I mean, like, seriously, how does one kid manage to stuff 7 blocks, yes SEVEN BLOCKS, down his nappy and still manage to mince about as if nothing is wrong? It beggars belief.

Anyway, I digress. Let’s crack on with the post shall we?

A day at the farm

On one such weekend we decided to have a day out at the local farm. There’s tonnes of animals to interact with and there’s even a pig race. How cool is that!

So we’re at the farm and we’re all having lots of fun. Myself and the kids are playing in the playground while my wife queues up for some much needed coffee. She returns and we’re happily sipping on our crappy drinks nice warm beverages. Then, all of a sudden our oldest emerges from the depths of the playground and drops a bombshell…

DAD! I NEED A POO!

He announces this across the playground, while simultaneously wrapping both hands around his bum. I immediately knew that said poo was ready to make an imminent appearance and there was no way the little fella was making it 200 yards to the toilet.

In a fraction of a second my wife makes the same risk assessment as me; we both ditch the coffees and dart toward our son at the speed of a thousand gazelles. We get there and he calmly announces that the poo has already arrived and is quickly making its way south toward his welly.

Crap (literally)

I’m ashamed to say that my initial reaction was one of frustration and anger, which I immediately took out on our son:

You know better than this, [name]! You need to come to me and Mummy BEFORE you’re desperate for a poo!

He had shame written all over his face and I immediately felt bad about the way I had reacted. He was excited and simply didn’t think about it until it was too late. Poor kid.

My wife, knowing me very well, saw the frustration on my face and offered to take him to the toilet. So, off she went with our oldest waddling next to her like a penguin on the ice. I felt really bad.

Next thing I know, a woman in the playground who also had a couple of kids with her, struck up a conversation which went something like this:

Her: Is that what I have to look forward to as these two get older?

Me: Yeah, pretty much. Sorry about that. :-)

Her: Can I ask you…how did you get on potty training your oldest? I’m really struggling to potty train mine. He’s just not interested.

At this point panic sets in and my inner monologue started running at a million miles per hour. I didn’t know our oldest when he was being potty trained. How on earth can I articulate this to her without either looking like a lunatic that has abducted this child, or without giving her more info than I’m comfortable with.

Screw it, I thought. I’m just gonna go for it. And I went back to her with…

I don’t know, I’ve only known him 3 months!

As soon as the words fell out of my mouth, I knew I had cocked it up and was very much looking like that child abducting lunatic I wanted to avoid.

I panicked and ended the conversation by walking away. Not my finest moment, I have to be honest. That poor woman must have been so confused.

My wife finished cleaning our oldest up as best she could, while I gathered our youngest and made a beeline for the car. When my wife returned, she found me and our youngest by the car. Him frustrated that he had to leave the playground and me looking utterly shell-shocked and embarrassed by the recent events.

Well done, dad. Great job!

Looking back

Looking back at the whole saga, I can laugh about it now. But I am disappointed at myself for getting frustrated at our oldest, and for how I handled that mess with the nice lady in the playground.

Accidents like this happen, and are perfectly normal for a child of his age. I still don’t really know why I reacted that way - that’s definitely something for me to work on.

When we got home, I worked really hard to repair any damage by apologising to him and by giving him lots of reassurance and cuddles. We’re all good now…I hope.

What I have learned from this situation is that I need to be prepared for these kinds of questions - people don’t know that our kids are adopted, so we’re bound to get questions about their background. I think there’s some work for me and my wife to do in order to come up with some cookie cutter responses for these situations.

If anyone reading this has any tips, I’m all ears - please do get in touch.

I’m sorry this has been another story about poo and not even a good one like my last post, The Master Of Poo. Next time I’ll try to talk about something other than poo. I promise.

Until next time. Dad, out.