Embarrassed Emoji x1000.

Theres a park on a horse farm near us. You get to play on a playground and watch people ride their horses on these little courses. It’s charming.

Well, let’s reverse for a moment.

It was charming before my toddler pooped under a tree there.

Now it’s no longer charming, but tainted. Tainted with toddler poop.

And you know what? He timed this sucker to be perfectly awkward in every way.

We were the only people here for about the first 15 minutes, and then a couple people showed up to trot around on their horses and then there was a man mowing the grass.

Luke made passing comments about “poop” when we were on the playground, but them went on his merry way of jumping over rocks and chasing his sister.

And then he mentioned it again, but this time as he mentioned it he pulled down the shorts…and I knew it was a 911 poop situation. And my internal “OH SH*T” meter was off the charts.

To avoid him doing it directly next to the park, I scanned for a back up spot. I noticed a low tree that could provide some shelter…there was no one around at the moment…he’d be quick, we’d be ok. (PSHHHHHHTTTTTT: ROOKIE THOUGHTS)

And then when I realized I also had to teach him the art of the squat and that he couldn’t just unload standing up, while also keeping the 18 month old away from this fascinating scenario…I just nearly died.

Except it got worse.

…THEN THE PEOPLE ON THE HORSES AND THE GUY ON THE LAWN MOWER CAME BACK and we had ourselves a stubborn evacuation situation and I never wanted to crawl out from under the tree ever…EVER. They were walking up the gravel path right behind us and if they wanted a fun story…they got one. “At the horse farm today we saw this crazy lady letting her toddler poop under a tree…”

As soon as we had droppage, Luke shouted “EMMA DON’T TOUCH IT”and as soon as we emerged from under the poop tree of shame he continued to shout “I POOPED UNDER THE TREE”, “EMMA DONT TOUCH IT”, ” IM GONNA TELL DADDY I POOPED UNDER A TREE”…as i’m desperately shouting SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. DON’T OUT US LIKE THAT SON.


We tried to save face and play a bit more as I pretended that we were using the tree as a castle and not a shameful poop portal…but then the man mowing the lawn was getting far too close to the tree and we just HAD TO LEAVE.

And my best way to get both kids into the car without tantrums was to promise milkshakes because I am desperate and weak.

SO yes, that happened, and then I rewarded it with a milkshake.

Scene of the crime…stay away Emma.

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