Parables in Poo Vol. 1 No. 5

As can be read about here, Katy, Nick, my folks, and I recently went to Disneyland. While staying in Anaheim we got rooms at the Hyatt, a pretty good hotel about 15 minutes from the Magic Kingdom. This hotel has an odd aura surrounding it. The last time I stayed in it, I was about 10 and my brother had an "incident" in the elevator after staying a few minutes too long at the hotel gift shop while mom and dad ate dinner. Nick had a similar "incident." Here's the story. I had just finished giving Nick a bath and was taking a shower while Katy got him ready for a day of fun at California Adventure. As is customary, Katy likes to let Nick "air dry," which, oh faithful readers, I trust you can figure out what that means. Once I finished my shower, I went to go find some clothes, only to find Nick still "air drying." He had quickly discovered that a hotel bathroom has not one, but two toilet paper holders as well as various sink piping, all extremely accessible to crawling babies so needless to say he always knew when the bathroom door was open allowing him entry to the world of undersinks. Which, in this instance, was where he headed. Not two minutes after he reentered the bathroom with Katy doing her makeup and me getting dressed, I hear this, "Awww, nooooo, Nick! Awwww....Rob can you come here for a sec?" Fearing the worst, I ask, "Is he okay?" To which Katy replies, "Well just c'mere." I hustle over to assist in what I fear is some electrical accident, and find this:


Not really knowing what to do, I instinctively run for the camera. The shots aren't great because while focusing I'm getting yelled at to put the camera away and help because Nick is playing in his own poo. But I did get one last shot:


Apparently, while trying to grab something off the sink and in complete stealth mode, Nick had opened the floodgates of his bowels with no sound whatsoever. It wasn't until Katy stepped in it and almost slipped that she realized what he had done. She quickly picked him up and put him in the tub, where he promptly attempted to clean his own feet by pulling the substance off with his hands and smearing it all over his chest, face, and the tub. After puting the camera away, Katy gave me a choice: the floor or the kid. I chose the kid. Once my hysetria subsided, since I had just showered and was not yet dressed, I hopped in the tub to clean my son. Mistake #1: I chose bath running instead of shower running. With the enormous amount of poo, it was apparently too much for the crappy hotel drainage system, slowly filling the tub with a thin layer of brown-water which began, unknowingly, to coat my leg hairs as I knelt in the tub to clean my son. Obviously, it took me longer to clean my son the second time than it did the first time. Once I realized I was covered in poo too, I quickly turned on the shower and held him up to the faucet. Mistake #2: I tried cleaning his backside first not knowing his chest and hands were still covered in poo, making my chest and hands now covered in poo too. After dry heaving a few times, I finally got him all cleaned and tried to pass him off to Katy. No dice. Not wanting to use a hotel towel and give new meaning to the idea of filthy hotel laundry, she used toilet paper. Not the most absorbant material that single-ply hotel toilet paper. For brevity's sake, let's just say that some of the bathroom grout in the Anaheim Hyatt room #1609 is a different shade than most of the grout.

Lesson learned. "Air drying" your child is ok so long as his piping has already been emptied...permanentaly.