So I got a 911 call from Marelle today, wondering where the hell I was and what the hell happened to the poop post. I have no idea what happened to the poop post so I guess I will have to start over. It is too bad, cause I don't even remember what I said.
I guess it all started last Saturday when we woke up at 3:30 a.m. to get to the airport for our 7 a.m. flight. If you are wondering what jackass planned a 7 a.m. flight on a Saturday with a 4 month old baby, you can rest assured that the jackass was not me. I wasn't too sad to leave, since the thermostat in the house registered 87 degrees.
Wonder of all wonders, we managed to get to the gate a whole 14 minutes before flight departure. As we boarded the plane the flight attendant gasped and said to me (about my nearly naked baby), "He's going to be cold."
"I sure hope so." Everyone is an expert, in case you hadn't noticed.
So there we are. The door is about to close and you know what he did. He filled his pants. The poop bomb from hell. I would like to take this opportunity to say I am so glad I was wearing my beige linen pants. WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING???
Sure enough, it took another 10 minutes to take off and then the pilot left us in our seats forever. So there I am holding him off my pants in order to minimize the damage when Derek decides that it is time to break the rules and head to the loo. Of course I can't break the rules. The sign says "Fasten Seat Belts" for heaven's sake. But I had enough and we were off to fit the Jolly Green Giant, his somewhat tall wife and a poop-filled baby into the world's smallest bathroom.
Is his timing ever going to get better than this?