This past August, we decided to make a trip to a local Tommy Hilfiger so that we could buy some new pants for Alex. Apparently Tommy Hilfiger pants are the best fit for him. So, the four of us loaded up and headed to the mall. After making our way to the store, I attempted to keep Luke happy and Anna entertained while Alex tried on pants. It was a futile effort. Luke was sick of being strapped in the stroller and Anna was running around and hiding behind racks of clothes. I’m sure the sales clerks were annoyed.
Eventually Alex made his choices and we made our way to the cash register so we could pay and get the heck out of dodge. Luke was on the verge of a complete meltdown and Anna was all but tearing the store apart. I asked Alex to man the kids while I stood at the register. Alex was trying to tide Luke over with a bottle, and Anna started twirling around one of poles that they use to create lines. Apparently they are called stanchions. Anyway, she was happy so I was fine with her dancing on a pole – just this once. While I was trying to concentrate on what the cashier was doing, Anna loudly tells me that she has pooped. I explained that she has a Pull-Up on (this was before she was potty trained) and that we would go to the bathroom once I was done. She kept spinning around the pole, I mean, stanchion while yelling that she had pooped. Without looking, I again reminded her that we would go to the bathroom in a minute. A sales clerk walked by and gave us the most disgusted look she could muster. I made a mental note that she must not have children and secretly thought she was a witch. The next thing I know, Anna walked over to me and was asking me to hold something. Now, I was in the process of getting my coupon out and handing over my debit card, so out of habit I put my hand down to grab whatever it was that Anna had. I hear her say, ‘there’s poop on my shoe’ as she places the shoe in my hand. The statement (and the realization that it was her shoe that was in my hand) finally made me snap to. My eyes were as big as dinner plates from shock.
I looked at Alex. Holding Anna’s poop-cased shoe, I loudly asked him ‘WHO’S POOP IS THIS??’ – as if someone else had taken a dump on the floor. I was secretly hoping it was someone else’s fecal matter, someone else’s problem. As I scanned the situation, it became obvious that it was our problem. It was our mess. It was my child’s fecal matter. Anna had pooped, and the Pull-Up in all its inefficient glory had leaked. Poo had run down Anna’s legs and was all over her feet and shoes. Looking closer, we realized that while she was twirling around the pole she was spreading poop all over the place. That poor, poor stanchion.
Alex and I sprang into action. The cashier was STILL not finished, so Alex told me to take Anna to the bathroom to clean her up and he would finish paying and clean up the floor. I agreed that it sounded like a plan, so I grabbed another Pull-Up and the bag of wipes. Knowing that Alex would need some wipes so he could clean the floor, I opened the bag to grab a handful to take with me. Turns out, we only had two wipes left. Why is it that whenever you most need them, you only have two wipes left? I looked at Alex with panic. I gave him one wipe and grabbed Anna.
Anna had poop on her shoes and all over her legs. I wasn’t about to carry her on my hip, and I couldn’t let her walk and spread more poop. So, I grabbed her under her armpits and ran with her at arm’s-length to the nearest bathroom (which was about 4.68 miles away, or so it seemed). We got several laughs from people as we passed. I’m sure it was hilarious. Anna and I made it to the bathroom. I put her in a sink and washed her off. I made the executive decision and threw her shorts away – there was no coming back from this one. I rinsed off her shoes (luckily they were Crocs, so cleaning them was easy). Meanwhile, Alex finished paying (freaking FINALLY) and proceeded to clean the floor of Tommy Hilfiger with one wipe. He told me later that the sales clerks were watching in total disgust as he would wipe, fold the wipe in half, wipe again, and fold again. He was left with a wipe that was completely layered with poop in one hand, a bag of pants, and a double stroller with an angry baby. As he was leaving the store, the alarms started ringing. The clerk came to attempt to check his bag. She came dangerously close to touching the poopy wipe and decided to just let him go. Probably the best choice on her part. Alex found us by the bathroom. Anna was pant less and standing in wet shoes. My face was hot from embarrassment. We quickly headed toward the car and spent the ride home laughing so hard we were crying. Tommy Hilfiger will never be the same.