It has been a long time since I have thought about the word Pooptastrophe. That was the phrase that my husband and I coined when our daughter was very little and we would have a messy diaper and that would go everywhere. Most true pooptastrophes end with a child being held at arms length in a shower, a child being bathed, or possibly both parent and child needing a bath. Pooptastrophe has been a word of the past since the start of solid foods. That is, until today.
Today I stepped in poop. You might think, why on earth did your cat poop on the floor? But it was not cat poop. Oh no, we had a pooptastrophe. Apparently, little miss had such a large messy poop that it came out of the top of her diaper and landed on the floor. Which I then stepped in. I then screamed for husband. I explained the situation. He had the gall to ask me if I had gotten a new diaper yet. I retorted that since I was still cleaning poop off of my foot, I had not gone anywhere yet.
After wiping a smile off of his face, he took care of cleaning up toddler while I took care of my foot and the floor.
It is almost funny to me now. Still disgusting, but almost funny. I think I laugh to keep from hurling...
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