Reaching over and picking up the bag we’d opened and laid out—the stress of what we were doing had made me forgotten we’d done that—I pulled the rest of it out from under her and tried to fold it up so it would fit into it.
“Holy cheese doodles, it’s like trying to make origami.”
Another dry heave sounded from him. “Just get rid of it. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to last.”
Picking up the packet of wipes, I tried to open them with my left hand, but the sticky tab refused to pull away from the plastic.
“I’m stuck. If I hold the pack down on the ground, can you pull on that little bugger there and get it away from the plastic?”
Glaring at me, he did just that, and after some tugging and fighting with it, we finally had the wipes open. To help me do it, he’d had to put both of Sheena’s feet in one hand and lean over the top of her, meaning that her feet had gotten closer to her face. This was a huge mistake on our part because it managed to push some wind out of her.
Pvvvvvt!
The problem was, as soon as the cute toot sounded, I had a moment’s panic where I had to check to see if it’d slipped out of me.
Look, we all did it at some point. Like when you were running around the field during PE at school, and each time your foot touched the ground for about five steps out came a parp. Or if you bent over to pick something up. Or even when you went to the bathroom at work, and that bluster of wind came out and embarrassed you mid-flow as it reverberated off the porcelain.
Sadly, bodily functions were a way of life, and there was no way of avoiding them. I just couldn’t remember ever doing one with my feet up by my face.
The good news was, I was fairly sure it had definitely come from Sheena’s butt.
Garrett had the same concern I did because he froze and did a slight wiggle, then relaxed. “Wasn’t me.”
“Like something that delicate would come out of your ass,” I snorted, leaning in to wipe the baby. “This isn’t too hard, you know. I thought it would be worse than thi—”
You know how people say you can jinx something just by saying it and putting it out into the universe? Well, this situation was proof of that theory because just as I was about to pull my hand away, a louder fart vibrated against the palm of my hand, making me jump back.
I didn’t know what to do, so I just held my hand in the air and looked at it, totally horrified that it had a cute baby toot on it.
Choking and struggling between laughing and gagging, Garrett moved slightly farther away, accidentally pulling her legs back with him.
And then it was on.
I was just leaning in with a clean diaper when something I didn’t know could happen happened.
Something had upset the poor baby’s stomach, and with her legs pulled back as far as they were, it was like a water pistol for the poop chute.
The vilest smelling doodie shot out of her butt, traveling about three feet across my wooden floor and also hitting my thankfully gloved hand, which was sadly in the line of fire again.
The first thing to sink in was that there was shit spraying out of the poor kid.
The second was that it was on my floor and could sink between the wooden floorboards.
The third was that it was also on the towel Tabby had in the diaper bag, and I had no clue how to get shit out of a towel. I’d never had to do it, so I wouldn’t know where to begin.
The fourth was that it was now dripping from my hand—legit dripping—and even though I had a glove on, I had shit on my freaking hand.
The fifth was the smell. Holy shit, it was like the time we went to Mexico, and Dad ate food from a street vendor that looked dodgy as fuck. Because the bathroom in our suite was next to my bedroom I’d smelled it all night, and every time he went, it’d just gotten worse.
The sixth was that she was happily playing with her toes while she squeezed down, and more came out. If that were me, I’d be running for the potty.
And finally, the seventh was that Garrett’s previously dry heaves were sounding like they could be ‘productive’ heaves soon. I’d have dookie and barf to clean up, and I didn’t think my back, my hand, and my stomach could take it.
Sheena stopped doing her stomach tensing and red face things long minutes later, and Old Yeller finally settled down. The mess and stench were unbelievable, though.