Holy Crap!

Yesterday, Toad and I ran a couple errands. We went to the doctor and then I treated myself to a caramel macchiato at the Starbucks drive-through on the way home. It was a good morning. The doctor put some fears to rest regarding the leg pain I'd been having...AND I got a glorious, delicious, hit-the-spot coffee, too! How much better could it get?! So, we headed home for Toad's nap.
I was on the phone with my mom as I pulled into the garage. As I unbuckled him from his car seat, I could smell the result of the "bearing down" grunts I had heard on the way home. "Pew, Toad, you stink", I said to him, while juggling my coffee, the phone and the car door. What happened next was fully unexpected and shocked me so much that all I could say was "Oh my gosh! Oh MY GOSH! OH MY GOSH!!" My mom was becoming worried, on the other end of the phone, as she kept asking for an explanation to my exclamations. I couldn't find any other words at the time, though. So, I quickly told her I'd have to call her back.
You've heard the expression that "sh** hit the fan", right? Well, in my case, crap hit the floor! The garage floor! Wet pooh! I don't even know what really made me look, but something caught my eye as I shifted Toad from his car seat to my hip. I saw something fall. It was crap!! Yes, baby poop fell out of his shorts and onto the floor.
At that moment, I was less concerned about the floor and more concerned about whether putting him on my hip had created a permanent poop stain on my brand new shirt and/or favorite pair of capris. Not wanting more poop to leak on to me, I stood Toad on the garage floor, holding onto his hands, and tried to assess the situation. Much to my delight, there was zero pooh on me! I was thrilled by that discovery, yet, I was still in shock at what had happened. Don't get me wrong, I've dealt with my share of poop. I've scrubbed it out of his clothes and cleaned it up from sheets, his car seat and my clothes before. But, this was just so unexpected that I was almost paralyzed by the reality of the situation.
As I held Toad's hands up in the air, he started to twist. To avoid him twisting his body into a pretzel, I ever-so-meticulously placed one arm under his armpits and one arm under his waist and carried him into the house. Not wanting him to squirm, I pretended we were playing "superman" and rushed him to the changing table. That is where I discovered that his diaper hadn't failed to catch his pooh, but rather he had unloaded so much that the diaper just couldn't stand up to the task.
The bad news is that it looks like a sick cat took a dump on our garage floor. Apparently, poop stains concrete. The good news is this: despite Toad emptying himself so much that he overflowed his diaper, soiled his cute athletic shorts, left poop juice on his car seat and a plop of nasty, stinky pooh on the garage floor, I didn't have to change my clothes!! My outfit made it through the whole ordeal with not so much as one bit of a stain. Then, again, my top was black, so perhaps it was just camoflauged. Maybe I should go check again. :)
Luckily, Toad waited til we got home to reveal his hard work. I shouldn't complain...especially after having recently read this post from Lorie... and this one, too. Oh, and then I remembered this post from Jana.
Gotta find the humor in the poop... or else you'll just be stinkin' irritated. A lot.