The real gem today wasn’t so much the new park we visited in the middle of a cloudburst–though the little bike trails were nice. It was the visit to the port-a-potty where my daughter blurted indiscreetly that she had to drop a log. By which time I shuddered.
That the zipper on her coat would choose the same moment to unravel itself from the bottom and that I would get a four minute workout trying to ram the zipper’s teeth into submission while bent in half, only to pull the whole coat over my daughter’s head, was, well, awesomeless.
Not to be out-done, my son would attempt to fill our septic tank on a single visit to the bathroom. By which time he would claim he did not need help wiping and would consequently flush all but a few sad squares down our own toilet. And…
and as the the rest of us waited for the toilet to burp or choke or die, the thing filled itself with water and practically smiled.
Which is what I’m doin’ now…
because two kids who wipe–or at least give it a try–means ain’t nobody in diapers ’round here.
And, well, Glory Hallelujah…A–MEN.