The worst part is that other than the poop, he's fine. No fever, no stomach discomfort, just...poopy. We kept him home from his cousin's birthday party this weekend and it didn't cause any massive meltdown; we've been pretty much following the BRAT diet for him (though I made a tactical error over the weekend by second-guessing myself and giving him milk. Yeah, that didn't work out so well.) (If he doesn't loathe bananas and applesauce by the end of this it will be a miracle.) He even made it out of his naptime with a dry diaper. Huzzah! The corner, she has been turned. Until Dylan texted me with the lovely news of the massive diarrhea right before bath time. Crap in a hat. Almost literally. He had to miss his very first field trip in his new classroom plus the birthday cupcake for one little boy's birthday.
He's handling it like a trouper, no whining...at least, no more than usual. Feeling saucy today, I took him up to the grocery store for some bananas, diapers and applesauce. MY COMPLETE IDIOCY. LET ME SHOW IT TO YOU. First there were no carts with which to contain him so I grabbed a hand basket instead. On our way to the produce section, he saw giant bottles of Gatorade and wanted one. Well, the pediatrician's office recommended Gatorade so I picked up the red bottle which was NOT THE RIGHT ONE, MY GOD WOMAN, YOU WOUND ME. He chose the orange bottle (?) then hauled tail over to the produce section where he started picking oranges out of the display and putting in the basket. Suggestions to maybe put the oranges in a bag were greeted with shrieks of dismay. Not to be outdone, he then started picking up apples and
Because I'm sucker we also got two boxes of crackers (per the doctor's suggestion so it's totally okay) and cookies (see: sucker) when I realized that with the 80 pounds of bananas, all the goodies wouldn't fit in the hand basket. My brilliant idea? Give him a hand basket to carry with the light stuff. That? was not one of my better ideas as he wanted to carry the fruit and the cookies. The fruit of course could not be in bags and the basket dragged at a 45-degree angle by one handle ensured that as much food as possible came into contact with the floor.
Long story short (too late), he woke up dry from his nap, we cheered, then the poop returned with a vengeance right before bath time. Because of course it did; life is what happens when you're busy making other plans. And he better potty train soon because I am done with poop. Forever and ever amen.