This Is Why I Have a Dog

This morning as I was doing laundry (still), Henry came running through the room leaving a stink trail in his wake.

Before I continue this tale, let me explain that Henry is still not potty-trained. It's becoming a thorn in my side, especially since I keep getting coupons for Pull-Ups in all the diaper packages I buy. I also get them spit out at me when I check out at the supermarket as if I need more reminders that Henry needs to be potty-trained. Fuck off, Huggies. Don't you think I want my child potty trained? Assholes.

Anyways, I grabbed Henry and he wanted to go "poopy in the potty". And I'm all, "Sure, boss, but you're a little late there". I peel off his poopy diaper, put him on his potty, and shut the door because the kid likes his privacy in the bathroom, and who could blame him? I haven't gone to the bathroom alone since 2010. I give him a few minutes to do his thing while I toss his dirty diaper outside in the trash and when I open the bathroom door it's like... I don't even know how to explain this... like a poop bomb went off. Like Hiroshima. 

Henry is scooting across the floor like a dog with worms and there is a puddle of pee on the floor and an imprint of a butt on the wall made out of poop. There is poop smeared on the toilet and on the vanity and even on the air vent, like he wanted to air out his butt or something. I can't scream, but I obviously want to. It's a terrifying mess. Incidentally, the potty made it out unscathed.

Instead I smiled and with a trembling voice and through gritted teeth I said, "Wow! You are such a big boy! You went poopy and peepee in the potty!" Even though I want to scream, "HOLY SHIT! WHAT THE FUCK?!? JESUS CHRIST! OH MY GOD!" 

I take him and wipe him down with 23,455 wipes. In case you're wondering why I didn't just put him in the bathtub, you should know that putting him in the bathtub would just be more of a mess and a fight since he hates getting out of the tub. Plus, he'd wake up the baby which I needed at that moment like I need a litter of kittens.

So after I send him off on his merry way, I go to wash my hands and grab the Lysol wipes when I see George. Licking his chops. I walk to the bathroom and what do you know? Aside from the lingering smell of fresh shit, and a little puddle, there is no trace of poop anywhere. 

And this is why I have a dog.

George knows how to earn his keep.