Another post from a couple of years ago from my old mum blog, before I started professional copywriting. I liked it so much that I thought I’d treat you all to a second read of my toilet training exploits (or a first if you’ve just met me, in which case check out my latest work here)
Yesterday I had to take George (9 months) into Chorley for a doctor’s appointment. So I dropped Sam (almost 6) off at school and was all set to walk straight there. Then I thought better of it and decided to nip home to let Jessica (2.5) use the potty. She’s just beginning to get the hang of toilet training, but generally can go out on walks without a nappy on and waits till she gets back home. She didn’t manage to do anything on the potty before it was time to leave for the doctors, and I couldn’t wait any longer or we’d be late.
So off we went. It’s about a 20 minute walk. Halfway there she says she needs a poo. “It’s alright,” I thought to myself. “When she says that, she normally means she might do one in about half an hour or so, we’ve got plenty time.”
A couple of minutes later she started to cry. “My bum hurts, owwwww!!!! I need my potty.” Did I have the potty with me? Did I chuff. She was adamant she needed a poo right away, so I nipped up a quiet side street and whipped her kecks down to save her shitting herself. I waited there, hidden up an alley for a while, but she didn’t do anything, so I pulled her trollies up and we set off again.
Touching t’ cloth
We’re then on a stretch of main road that has no little allies or quiet bits to hide away in when she starts to scream that she is actually doing a poo and it hurts. I put my hand to her bum and could feel that she was, as they say, “Touching t’ cloth.” I had no choice but to whip her pants down yet again, where she proceeded to do the most massive dump you have ever seen right there on the pavement.
Didn’t have any tissues, wipes, nothing. Tipped a load of odds and ends out of a bag for life and picked up the offending turd. So much for a bag for life, I won’t be using that again. And I certainly can’t return it to Asda for a replacement! She then announced that she felt much better. I bet she bloody did after that, how that monstrosity fit inside such a tiny person I’ll never know!
We finally arrived at the doctors. We were called through and I attempted to have a complex conversation with the doctor about George whilst running round after Jess, and both myself and the doctor attempted to discourage her from playing with the sharps bin. As the doctor was talking, Jess burst into a loud Frozen mash-up. Fortunately he was very understanding, he even joined in with her, which was very good of him. She repaid his kindness by pissing all over his office floor. Nice.
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