Giant Gross

Last night we had students from one of my classes over for dinner. On the way out, Mia stood at the door and gave them her admonitions:

“You guys, be careful!” Mia hollered. She’s been very nervous about giants lately – but she was more concerned for her new friends at this point.

“If any giants gets you I will pick up a stick, push them and keep them from getting you. But stay on sidewalk or giants gets you,” she finished. It was a grand plan that everyone appreciated.

I wish that she had been around with a stick earlier in the day.

Isaiah and I watched 2-year-old nursery at church. It went really well for me until the very end. That was when I took Tabitha to the potty.

With a 2-year-old, it’s not uncommon for them to have the hang of potty down and you just have to sit by and steady them so they don’t take a surprise dunking into the toilet bowl.

Tabitha was pretty solid, she got her pants down, arranged on the toilet and the deed done all by herself. But she needed help with the wiping.

So, I leaned over to get a handful of toilet paper. While I was down, she hopped up. And spilled her wet little behind dribbles all over the bathroom and her backside. Yuck!

I cleaned it up as best I could with toilet-paper dissolving into little pellets of uselessness in my hand. Finally, it was all done.

I pulled her underpants up.

And discovered that the urine had collected into a little pool on the underwear. That pool, when pulled up past the sweet little curve of her toddler behind, flicked upward, splattering into my eye and covering my face in urine.

It was not a high point. In fact, it was dramatic low and I think I threw up a little in my mouth.

Tabitha, supremely unknowing, grabbed me around my knees in a bear hug and said, “I love you! I missed you while you were gone!”

Resisting the urge to kick her out of my way in a mad dash for antibacterial facial soap and possibly Lysol, I hugged her back, made sure she was put back together, washed her hands, and sent her out of the bathroom.

Then I attacked my face with soap and water. It would have been gross if it was my kid, undoubtedly. It was even more disgusting knowing that it was the liquid byproduct of a being that doesn’t share my own genetic code. I don’t know why it makes a difference, but it really does.

I was later told that you can get pink eye from urine in your eye. I think my eye is burning as I write.