Oh. My. God
Not exactly something I wanted to hear, especially seeing as I’d just had a wonderfully hot shower after my 10km race, and was now busy with the washing.
There my daughter stood, in the bathroom, the smell already wafting through to the lounge, with her jeans and panties down by her ankles, this brown sludgy STUFF in and on her jeans and panties, and I just stood there. I then swung my head further into the bathroom, and saw that she had attempted to get to the toilet, but had only succeeded in smearing the STUFF all over the toilet seat.
Right, so mommy over here grabbed her kitchen gloves, and then proceeded to clean her daughter. My poor child; “I’m sorry mommy, I thought it was just a fart!” I mean come on, could my heart melt anymore? Well, at that point in time I think that it could of just from the smell of the STUFF.
25 minutes, a bath and a washing machine cycle later, I had a clean daughter and she had clean jeans & panties. My kitchen gloves were thrown away. There was no coming back from that.
“Mommy, I fart pooed! Again…”
Oh. My. God.