Potty Reversion

Wednesday night, Madeleine had her first potty accident in a LONG time.  And oh, what an accident it was. 

It just figures that the ONE night I brought her along to Julia's swim team practice, in order to allow Ethan some quiet time at home, Madeleine unabashedly pooped her pants. 

I didn't really know what to do, since I didn't have a change of clothes, so I wound up cleaning her up with wet paper towels, chucking her underwear in the trash, and putting her pants back on. 

Little did I know what sort of an example I had set.

Yesterday morning, I noticed a weird smell in the play basement, but couldn't identify its source.  Our oil tank had just been filled that morning, which lent a burned-fuel smell to the basement, so I wondered if that was just giving a funky aroma to everything in its vicinity.

Fast forward through the day: Madeleine and I had gone to a Y in Boston for a pool party celebrating one of her preschool friend's birthdays, and upon returning home, we had our friends Neva, Nate and Anja over for dinner.  After all the kids had eaten pizza and returned to the basement to play, the adults sat around with drinks and chatted. 


About an hour later, we headed downstairs to check on the kids, and this time the stench was unmistakable.  The entire basement smelled like a dirty diaper.  Even the kids noticed it. 

Let me point out that it apparently did not cross Madeleine's mind AT ALL to speak up.

We found the source of the smell in the downstairs bathroom.  In its garbage sat not one but TWO pairs of poopy underwear.  One was only mildly smeared, while the second (and newer) pair were decorated with a big old mound of poop.

What happened, you may ask??  I'm still not totally sure myself, but from what I gather, Madeleine had decided to deal with the problem herself and chuck the undies and do her own wiping. 

How good of a job did she do in wiping?  Well, when I brought her upstairs to the bathtub, she had two big brown buttcheeks, crusted over because the poop had dried on. 

UGH.

Interrogation got me no further towards understanding WHAT ON EARTH possessed her to chuck her underwear and not tell ANYONE.

ME: Madeleine, WHY did you throw your underwear in the garbage?!?
MADELEINE: Me no no!
ME: I don't want to hear the baby talk.  I want to understand.  Why didn't you just TELL me that you had pooped and you needed help?
MADELEINE: Because...I thought that if I told you I had poop in my underwear, you'd go (assuming an aggravated expression) "Jeeeeez."

Ah. I see.  Madeleine didn't want to aggravate me by letting me know she had poop-stained her underwear, so she did the logical thing by just chucking the evidence in an open garbage can and STINKING UP THE ENTIRE BOTTOM FLOOR OF THE HOUSE.

I still don't quite know when underwear pair #1 was clandestinely thrown in the garbage.  Madeleine herself isn't sure.  It could have been the previous night, or that very morning, she says.  She no no.

At any rate, let's hope that was the end of the underwear pooping and tossing.  Otherwise next time, as our friend Neva suggested, Madeleine gets to wash her OWN poopy underwear in the bathtub for us.

All I can say is: Madeleine most definitely can not be a grown up with babies of her own while she's still pooping her pants, so maybe that will provide some incentive to get her poop into the potty from now on!