Sling

It was wonderful to visit with one of my closest friends recently.  She has three children, ages four, two and five months.  My son is almost four and our children play wonderfully together.  All of us were out by the pool and my son was drawing with sidewalk chalk. He had swam in the pool and was taking a tiny break. Last checking on him, he was squatting down, sidewalk chalk in hand, looking up at me but then saw the saddest and most concerning look on his little face.  “Mommy,” he said, in a squeaky tiny voice, “I did pooh pooh in my pants ... please help me.” At this point I moved from a carefree walk to an all-out space shuttle launch, remembering that fifteen minutes earlier I took him OUT of his wet swimsuit and simply placed him in a long tee-shirt – and yes, you guessed it, nothing else.  You see, my son had been completely potty trained for two years now … and it felt like this moment was carefully selected for a mother’s worst nightmare.  As any mom knows - unwanted activity below the belly button, and above the knees, will turn any party into a buzz-kill.  Luckily, he remained squatting down and his oversized t-shirt acted as a sling between his little knees - it was holding the “you-know-what” between him and the brick pavers.  I scooped him up, horizontal, raced into the pool bath and placed him right on the “flusher”.  This remedied the problem of ‘the big’ “you know what” and I apologize for this quick but important detail - the “you-know-what” was (thank you Lord) firm, but it is still difficult pulling a shirt over his little head when there is “you-know-what” on it! Into the adjacent pool shower WE went – I in my sun-dress, hat and shades and he in his birthday suit. All I can say is, “There is nothing like dear and close friends. Had this been at a pool party with new found playmates, and new moms,  I would have just died!”
 
Diana G.