So here I am, writing stories, looking for other stories and photos, when I get a call from my son’s school today.
Anyone who is a parent knows that when you see your child’s school on the caller ID that one of two things probably happened: (1) your kid just hurt himself doing something or (2) your kid just got in trouble for doing something.
Today I discovered a third option: your kid just sharted in his pants for the very first time and you need to go there and bring him some new pants and underwear.
For my son this was obviously not a pleasant experience. Apparently he kept it a secret for over an hour and finally once he was free from his classroom and headed to lunch he saw an opening and headed to the office.
The nurse then calls and says that my son needs to speak with me. “Uh oh,” is all I could think.
He’s in tears, doing that snot-bubble-type of crying kids do and only part of it I think was because he sharted. The other part was the fact that he had to admit to me, on the phone, at school, in front of the nurse, that he sharted.
So I hurry and grab a change of clothes, drive to the school, which is luckily only about five minutes away and greet him in the nurse’s office.
As I am trying to help him get changed he tells me he hasn’t pooped yet, because he’s embarrassed (he didn’t use that word, but I understood), but he still needs to. That’s when the shit hits, well, the toilet and he proclaims to me, “I’ve never had diarrhea before. This is awful and it hurts.”
Yep, son it does.
Welcome to the elite club of sharters, my mini-me. You just joined a not-very exclusive club.
Child holding head image by Shutterstock
Now Watch This Girl Do Crazy Tricks With Her Hand That Make Me Want To Barf