Monday, November 15, 2004
Bonneville explodes!
Nothing quite says “quality family time” like a road trip. And it doesn’t even have to be a very long trip at that. Kristi, Connor and I headed out to Columbia this past weekend to spend some time with the ‘rents. A very nice and fun time was had by all. But this isn’t about the actual time spent in the capital city.
No, no, this is about the return trip. Actually, not even about the trip itself really. But the moment that the car pulled into the driveway, the gear placed firmly in “P” and the man-child released from the restraint of his car seat. As he crawled through the space between the 2 front seats to finally achieve freedom after 3-plus hours in the car, a pungent aroma wafted up and penetrated the delicate nature of our sinuses.
Normally my child does not offend me, but this was definitely an exception. Come to find out that the reason he was so quiet the last few minutes of the ride home was due to Mother Nature taking her natural course after a lunch of Mexican food. And Mother Nature was not being very kind to us. Junior had such an explosion that it had creeped it’s way out the back of his pants, up and over the waist band and some had settled into the car seat itself. Now, daylight savings being what it is, it’s difficult to ascertain all of this in the few seconds that it had occurred, keeping in mind that is was dark at 7 P.M.
As I stated, monkeyboy had crawled from the back seat to the front seat, leaving his trail of digested taco and beans as if he would need it to find his way back, much like breadcrumbs, only much more putrid.
As soon as we had discovered this devilish act, my wife and I sprinted into action like a well trained NASCAR pit crew. With Junior held under his arms, outstretched so as not to defile anything else on the way inside, my wife dashed straight upstairs to begin the process. With the child cleaning in progress, I began work on the car.
Pulled out the car seat, stripped it of its cushiony softness and hosed it down. Sprayed down the interior “problem areas” with industrial cleaner and began scrubbing. In the midst of this I hear three load stomps emanating from the second story of the house. Knowing this to be my cue for “something is a foot”, I stuck my head in the door and yelled, ever so romantically, “WHAT!!”
There was a one word response, “WIPES!!” No other words needed to be spoken, I knew at that moment that is would not be easy to clean a poop infested child without the ever necessary baby wipes. I dug the child cleaning paraphernalia out from the luggage and sprinted up the stairs only to hear the words, “I’ve almost thrown up 3 times trying to handle this”, not a good sign from a woman that prides herself on the fact that she has not thrown up in 10 years, regardless of how sick she was.
Bottom line, like a well-oiled machine, the situation was handled, and in record time! The child was cleaned, the clothes went in the wash (to be followed by a second cycle in the wash just to be sure), the car seat got cleaned and replaced, and the car got scrubbed and had half a bottle of Febreeze sprayed all over the interior.
So keep all of this in mind the next time someone with kids offers you a ride.
Consider yourselves warned.
¶ 7:01 AM
No, no, this is about the return trip. Actually, not even about the trip itself really. But the moment that the car pulled into the driveway, the gear placed firmly in “P” and the man-child released from the restraint of his car seat. As he crawled through the space between the 2 front seats to finally achieve freedom after 3-plus hours in the car, a pungent aroma wafted up and penetrated the delicate nature of our sinuses.
Normally my child does not offend me, but this was definitely an exception. Come to find out that the reason he was so quiet the last few minutes of the ride home was due to Mother Nature taking her natural course after a lunch of Mexican food. And Mother Nature was not being very kind to us. Junior had such an explosion that it had creeped it’s way out the back of his pants, up and over the waist band and some had settled into the car seat itself. Now, daylight savings being what it is, it’s difficult to ascertain all of this in the few seconds that it had occurred, keeping in mind that is was dark at 7 P.M.
As I stated, monkeyboy had crawled from the back seat to the front seat, leaving his trail of digested taco and beans as if he would need it to find his way back, much like breadcrumbs, only much more putrid.
As soon as we had discovered this devilish act, my wife and I sprinted into action like a well trained NASCAR pit crew. With Junior held under his arms, outstretched so as not to defile anything else on the way inside, my wife dashed straight upstairs to begin the process. With the child cleaning in progress, I began work on the car.
Pulled out the car seat, stripped it of its cushiony softness and hosed it down. Sprayed down the interior “problem areas” with industrial cleaner and began scrubbing. In the midst of this I hear three load stomps emanating from the second story of the house. Knowing this to be my cue for “something is a foot”, I stuck my head in the door and yelled, ever so romantically, “WHAT!!”
There was a one word response, “WIPES!!” No other words needed to be spoken, I knew at that moment that is would not be easy to clean a poop infested child without the ever necessary baby wipes. I dug the child cleaning paraphernalia out from the luggage and sprinted up the stairs only to hear the words, “I’ve almost thrown up 3 times trying to handle this”, not a good sign from a woman that prides herself on the fact that she has not thrown up in 10 years, regardless of how sick she was.
Bottom line, like a well-oiled machine, the situation was handled, and in record time! The child was cleaned, the clothes went in the wash (to be followed by a second cycle in the wash just to be sure), the car seat got cleaned and replaced, and the car got scrubbed and had half a bottle of Febreeze sprayed all over the interior.
So keep all of this in mind the next time someone with kids offers you a ride.
Consider yourselves warned.
¶ 7:01 AM
