I decided that Boden’s room needed to incorporate all his toys including the 5’x3′ train table my father made him for Christmas that has been in my living room along with a bazillion other toys that junk up the living room.
Making room in Boden’s bedroom would involve moving his bed. While I was moving LIGHT WEIGHT furniture (for those who think this pregnant girl is doing heavy lifting, I most certainly am not) Boden is in the living room watching tv. I thought Boden was watching tv, but he wasn’t in his recliner (yes, he has a mini recliner that most people are jealous of) and the back door was wide open. This wouldn’t be a big deal if we had a fenced in yard made out of impervious metal and childproof locks, but we have 5 1/2 acres and lots of trees.
I look at Shelby my yellow lab and scream, “GO FIND HIM YOU STUPID EFFING DOG!” I have no idea why I think she would all of a sudden turn into Lassie. She is just dumbly looking at me like, “stop screaming and throw something or take me to swim.”
Seconds later, which felt like and hour later, I hear his little voice calling, “mommy.”
“Don’t you ever go outside without mommy! Do you understand? I thought I lost you!”
“You lost me. I don’t go outside without mommy.”
I reach around him and I feel his heart, which is pounding a million miles a minute, and his back that feels oddly wet. I turn him around and… sigh, shit. Really, shit is everywhere: up his back and down his legs.
I have mentioned in previous posts that my child has had problems with constipation since he was 5 months old. The kind where you become a midwife and help birth out the massive, solid log that is causing this baby pain, thus creating a fear anxiety of pooping. We should only be so happy that this bowel movement was… easier to get out.
I pick him up and head for… I have no idea where to go. At this point, the terror has turned into Do I take him inside and get poop inside my house? That would be a whole lot of disinfecting.
I strip him down, gag at the pungent smell, and head for the water hose.
WHAT?! Don’t judge! It was 85 degrees outside and he loved it.
A two-year-old running around naked in the water hose is a happy boy. A mommy who doesn’t have to clean shit in her house is a happy mommy.
Don’t worry he had a warm bath afterward.
Southern Fried Mother 
only my Dizzle can give you the surprize of a life time and who know it would be a shitty one (LMAO)
I admire your flexibility! I will try to remember to hose my children down whenever necessary/possible. ~Rebekah
Rach, you know that Chris is 20 years old . . . I hosed him down when he was two because he couldn’t get the hang of the newly invented “Pull Up” and it wasn’t 85 degrees outside . . . he was wearing a heavy jacket when I encountered the problem! He survived! I thoroughly enjoy your blog! Great stuff! Love you, Maggie