I finally know what a number 3 is . . .

A few mornings ago, I was changing Elliot's pooey diaper, and I noticed that his bum was a bit red and rashy while I was changing him. "What the heck," I thought, "he's just had a poo, I'll leave his nappie off awhile so his little bottom can get some fresh air. What's the worst he could do, have a wee on the rug?"

That morning, I learned that having a wee on the rug is not the worst he could do.

So I plopped Elliot down with Nacho to play while I ran to the bathroom to have a quick wee myself and to brush my teeth. A mere two or so minutes later, I slowly opened up the hallway door (because I could hear him laughing and talking just on the other side) and peaked around to find him happily sitting and playing . . . with handfulls of poo!!!! It was everywhere: all over the entryway rug and skirting boards and the back of the door and all over the floors for a good six-foot radius. It was of course also all over Elliot: squished through his fingers, smeared across his t-shirt, slopped all over his feet and knees from him crawling through the stuff. And if that wasn't enough, Nacho was in it too, only he decided it would be a nice thing to eat for breakfast. Gag me!! Thankfully, Elliot didn't get any ideas from Nacho and kept his hands away from his face and mouth.

Of course, I panicked. I quickly grabbed a tea towel (it was the first thing at hand) and began to try to mop up the poo from Elliot's hands, but without water it just kept smearing around. I realized I needed assistance and with one hand holding Elliot's two wrists above his head, I grabbed the phone and rang Nikki next door. After scaring the bejesus out of her by telling her that we'd had an accident, and I needed help, she ran to the front door to find the poo debacle. After having a bit of a giggle, she caught a whiff of the stench and a glimpse of Nacho chowing down and didn't think it was quite so funny after that.
She held Elliot by the armpits while I stripped him down, threw Nacho outside and quickly mopped up the worst of the poo. Then we threw Elliot in the bath and scrubbed him down. Next it was time to bleach the floor, the walls, everything in the vicinity. The rug and all the rags then went into a bucket of disinfectant and an extra hot wash cycle. And then finally, I got to jump in the shower to wash the poo and smell (but sadly not the horrific memories) away.

As you can imagine, I am eternally grateful to Nikki. I also learned the important lesson that if Elliot is ever gonna go au naturale again, he'll be doing in the backyard!