And Then There Was That Thing That Happened

Micah fell asleep on the way to the mall. He was kinda rather in a Just Let Me Alone mood, and we let him alone as much as we could. I let him alone as he laid on the floor under the clothing rack, and then let him alone as I followed from a distance as he meandered the aisles. It was a tiny little store, so the chances of him getting lost were more on the none side of slim-to-none. I figured I'd let him work his way back to being social rather than fighting him. In the meantime, I shopped the racks.

While waiting for Becky to get out of the dressing room, I pulled together a handful of shorts that would fit Josh. I asked her which she preferred when she emerged, and Micah decided they were for him. He snagged his choice from my hand and took himself to the dressing room that Becky vacated. Being that he was just bordering on being social at this point, I figured I'd continue to give him space. He loves trying on clothes in stores because it's what other people do. And anyway, what harm could be done?

hahahahahahahahahahaha *breathe* hahahahahahahaha

WELL. Let me tell you.

I heard a faint warning bell in my mind right after I heard the little grunt from the dressing room. But when the smell hit me, I knew I was in trouble. And I knew I couldn't run out of there and pretend it wasn't my kid. I had no choice but to go in and assess damages.

They were huge.

Apparently, the boy was feeling less than 100%, gastrointestinally speaking. And apparently, being in an unsocial mood, he chose not to ask me to find him facilities. (Even though he'd never done that before. Ever.) Although there's no saying why he did what he did, really, because we can't just ask him. Maybe it came on that suddenly and he had no control or choice in the matter. We will never know. What I do know is that there was a pile of not-so-solid poo on the floor of the dressing room. And there was the same stuff down both legs. And a pile of it in his boxer shorts. And some on the shorts he tried on that didn't belong to us. And on the shorts he did own that were lying on the floor.

I contemplated that thing where I ran off and pretended the kid wasn't mine. And instead I got the wipies out of my purse to begin the cleaning up process.

There was one wet wipe in the box. Of course.

I used it to scoop up the pile on the floor, and then realized that I probably didn't use that single wipe to the fullest extent of it's capabilities. So I folded it to contain the mess inside and used the outside to gently wipe at the mess on Micah's legs. There was oozing involved. So now I was out of wet wipes, had poo on my hands, and still had a considerable mess to contend with. I asked Becky to get a bag from the counter, and took the tag off the shorts we would now be buying for Josh. I used Micah's boxers to clean up as much of the remainder of the mess that I could, including scrubbing at the carpet. (In vain, I might add.) The new shorts, the wet wipes container that somehow managed to get poo all over the inside and outside of it, the very soiled boxer shorts, and the single, brave, wet wipe were tossed into the bag.

Did I mention that this store was Plato's Closet? Where people take used clothing for resale? The counter clerk gave Becky an oversized Victoria's Secret bag when she asked. Clearly, something that clothing was brought in with. And something that couldn't be tied shut to at least pretend to minimize the smell. And sight. Victoria had a secret, alright. A dirty one.

I employed hand sanitizer as liberally as I could on hands, legs, and feet, and headed to the checkout counter with a bag full of smell and an unsoiled tag in my hands. An employee walked toward the dressing room, half a can of air freshner already used up on the trip there. Awesome. We most likely won't be shopping there again. I'm pretty sure our photos have been snagged from video cameras and are pasted by the cash register with warnings not to allow us on the premises. Ever.