So this afternoon, after church, hubby, Mr. Stinky Pants, and I went out to eat with hubby’s mom, sister, and her family. We were sitting, waiting for our food when Mr. Stinky Pants tenses and goes “Euuhhhh.” Well, if you’re a parent, you probably recognize that one. After a few more drawn-out grunts, he was done. I took him with the diaper bag to the women’s restroom. There was a tiny change table I pulled out from the wall. Tiny. I mean tiny, and my son is really big for his age. I open up his diaper, and…let me explain. The last few days, he hasn’t pooped so much. So today, it was kind of like he saved up several days of his poop, dumped it in his diaper, and said, “Here you go, Mom! Surprise!”

So Mr. Stinky Pants is crying. I’m dealing with a huge, poopy mess. As I pull the diaper down, he kicks, his legs rub against it. Now there’s poop all over his legs. Someone is jingling the doorknob of the restroom door, wanting to get in.

I get the mess cleaned up, put the cloth wipes in the wet bag, put his dirty diaper in the wet bag, and I reach in the diaper bag for his clean diaper. There’s no diaper. THERE’S NO DIAPER!

At this point, his crying has intensified into screams, because I’m taking too long. I’m holding his feet with one hand, texting my husband with the other to find out of my sister-in-law brought a spare diaper for her youngest son. Nope.

So I stuff two burp cloths in front of my son’s you-know-what, pull his onesie down over top, fasten, and good to go.

Well, we’re back home now. It all turned out okay, and I’m pretty sure I will never again forget a clean diaper! It’s been a long day, and long weekend, so I think we’ll be turning in soon.

Sayonara!