Unbelievable.... why me!!!!

A travesty of epic proportions has occurred tonight. A catastrophe so heinous it had to be chronicled in black and white. The phrase Sh!* happens rings SO true to Daddy M and I tonight. What is this disaster you may be wondering? It is a very simple disaster to recreate: You take an almost three year old boy, give him his own big boy undies and then teach him to poop in the toilet or else! You instill the fear of the wrath of Mommy and Daddy in his soul if he doesn't make it to the toilet in time. . . and then you let him loose in your home!

AAAAAAAUUUUUUGHHHH!!!!!!

 Let me repeat myself...

WWWWHHHHHYYYYY MEEEE!?!?!

Now that I have you all scratching your heads wondering exactly what the big deal is. I mean I just told you that our son's potty trained. (I use those words generously) I just told you he's scared of getting in trouble when he pees his pants or sometimes poops them,  naturally he would not want to get in trouble and may want to clean up his mess without our help. So if you're intelligent people and I have faith that you are. Then you should be able to deduce that that is indeed POOP smeared ALL over MY floor! NOT just on my floor, but my CaRpEt!! It gets better- this is only his bedroom. He made it all the way out the door, into our upstairs hallway, over to the stairs and down the entire flight of stairs before Daddy M saw his poop slippers and shrieked at him NOT TO MOVE!! 

I do believe we stood there in awe for about a minute until the fullness of what had just happened under our noses sank in. It sank slowly in like the stench of A's poo into our carpet.

So. . . like any independent adult, M threw our child into the shower and called our Mommies! They gave us the wonderful idea of using baking soda to soak up the smell and agreed with the suggestion that we get a carpet cleaner in ASAP. Considering that it is 11 o'clock at night, we decided to let that go until the morning. E was evacuated from the massacred room and sent to a safer haven. Much to his displeasure; I'm beginning to wonder if he liked the smell and didn't want to leave it. . . . *pondering* highly doubtful! I am sure his nasty mood came from the sudden startle as M and I shrieked in horror at the slaughtered carpet. We finally settled him in his crib and began the Baking Soda Project.

 An effort tantamount to the Boston Tea Party Massacre and equally deserving in capital lettering now! If you dare, M recorded the mess for future leverage use. You cannot see the poop in the hallway properly, but I assure you it is like a minefield out there! If I had a nasty smoking habit, this would be a good time to say, "Boy I need a smoke."