Just before 6 am this fine morning, Sam entered our room with no pants on and his hands held out in front of him. (Warning: lots of TMI to follow, my sharing of which Sam will surely need therapy for later in life, but, hey, it's kind of funny.)
Sam: Mom, um, I need to wash my hands.
Me: Okay, son, wash them in the other bathroom. Daddy and I are trying to sleep.
Me: Wait, why do you need to wash your hands?
Sam: I have poop on them.
Me (getting out of bed and walking Sam to the other bathroom): Sam, how did you get poop on your hands?
Sam: Well...I pooped a bunch and I...
Me: Oh, you just got some on your hands when you were wiping?
Sam: Well...kind of.
Me: Tell me.
Sam: There's also poop on the carpet in my room. And in my pants.
Me (upon seeing what was in the toilet, what was left of his butt, what was on the floor of his room and in his pants): Oh, baby, you're sick!
Me: Yes. This (moving my hand in a large circle, gesturing to the entire scene)...this doesn't happen unless you're sick. Does your belly hurt?
Sam: Kind of, I guess.
Me: Okay. Let's get you cleaned up and you can go rest in your room while Mommy cleans up the rest.
Sam: I tried to clean it up myself, Mommy, but I couldn't get it all.
Me: Oh, Sammy. If you're sick like that, don't try to take care of it yourself. I'm your Mommy. Just call for me and I'll help you.
Sam: Oh. Okay, Mommy. That's handy to know.
Sammy, trying to be quiet and clean up his sick mess all by himself. Poor sweet boy.
But I have to tell you, I might need therapy myself after witnessing what was in that toilet this morning. If you're a parent, I know you too have probably been shocked to find that...things that size...can come out of your little tiny kids. I mean, my God. I think that thing this morning had a heartbeat.
So we're hanging at home today, bleaching and laundering messes, praying for no encore, making grandma's soup and bread, having a movie marathon, trying to explain why Sam can't go outside to jump on the trampoline on such a lovely morning...
And trying to erase the memory of Sammy's sick morning (I'm shuddering at the mere mention).