Oh No He Di'int

I don't usually write about other people's kids, but I thought this time I might share a story with you that made me chuckle. Well really, I'm not sure if it was funny or just so curiously gross that it made me stop in my tracks a bit. Either way, here goes.

The other day I was picking up my 6 year old from camp. The camp is supposed to be for 6-8 year olds, but somehow I keep seeing smaller kids hanging around, and at times my daughter has told me that this or that person is 5 or 4 years old. Not sure if that is true, but you'll see why it's relevant in a minute.

So I'm picking her up and I have my son and my 3 year old daughter with me as well. We are standing around waiting to check her out with her counselor and everyone is situated around a picnic table.

Suddenly the overwhelming smell of poop wafts passed us. At the same time that I notice this I overhear a little girl say "Daddy, I think the baby has a poopy diaper," while pointing at my son who is happily hanging out in my arms.

I smile a little at the girl and think, maybe he does. I just changed him before we left and he's just been in the carseat, which is an unlikely place for him to do the deed, but I take a sniff anyway.

Nope, it's not my son. I figure it must just be someone passing gas. Although admittedly, it really smells more like an outhouse, which is to say I think it's the real deal and not the precursor toots.

We catch the whiff another time and now I'm just really curious as to where this is coming from. But no one else seems to care, and clearly my son is just taking the blame at the moment.

As I tell her counselor that I am picking up my daughter, I take a look around at the other campers. Besides the accuser of my son, there is at this point only one other kid left. And no other babies around that could take the fall, so I check that off my list of culprits.

This other boy looks pretty young to me, maybe around 4 or 5 years old, and he's sitting on his haunches on the bench of the picnic table.

By this I mean he is on his feet on the bench, and his butt is almost down by his ankles, only about an inch from the seat. His knees are in his face.

And from where I'm standing I have a clear view up his shorts and into his underwear.

Yup, you guessed it.

He has pooped his pants.

And it's right there airing itself out to the world because his tighty whities can't quite contain it all the way.

And it stinks.

Apparently I'm the only one that sees this. This boy has probably been sitting this way for a good 15 minutes, taking care of business, and then not knowing what the hell to do about it.

As I take all this in, I see that he is trying to look down at his deposit. But he can't really get a good look. So now he is reaching down there and poking at it with his fingers.

ACK!

As I watch him poke around down there for a second or two, he decides he's had enough of a feel and he brings his hand back up. And up and up. Right to his face.

Oh God, I think. He's going to taste it!

No, no he doesn't.

He just takes a sniff.

GACK!

I think that time I threw up a little in my mouth. Sorry about that.

He then takes a close inspection of his finger and takes another smell. The expression on his face doesn't change a bit. He just lowers his hand back down to his knee and then seems totally disinterested in the whole thing. But he's still not moving a bit.

What must be going through his head?

"Hmmmm, I wonder if I really did just poop. It kinda
smells around here. Maybe I did. Was it me? Is it in
there? I can't really see anything. Maybe I'll just reach down and
check. Hmmm. There's something in there. Wonder what it
is. Let's look. Well it looks like poop. Could just be dirt
through. Let's smell it. Yup, that's poop. I wonder when my
dad will be here. Hey look, a bird."

As I load up my kids into my car, which is right there in front, I keep staring at this kid because I am just so curious about it all that I can't tear away from it.

This is way better than the sight of the 8 or 9 year old girl the other day that literally peed her pants on the roller coaster as we were waiting in line. And she wasn't going to own up to it one bit. She just exited and proceeded to be in constant motion so her friend couldn't get a look at the evidence.

So back to poop boy. In a second his dad shows up to get him and he sllllooooooowwwly rises off the bench and takes a stand on the ground. He straddles his way over to his dad, stands for a second while his father checks him out with the counselor, and then waddles away.

He's walking like, well, like he has a load in his pants of course.

I happily have my poop-free gang buckled in and as we pull away I watch the soon-to-be-surprised dad (what will happen when he sits him in his carseat!!??) and the boy stroll off.

And I think to myself "Good luck with that."