Poo Painting

When Sebastian was 2 years old he was given a "grown up" bed. Basically, this consisted of a small bed without sides. He had been released from his crib prison.

Unfortunately, Sebastian was not yet potty trained when he made this transition. "What does it matter?" I hear you asking. Normally, it doesn't. These 2 childhood development milestones should be wholly unrelated.

And yet, they aren't. But first time parents never make the connection.

I work up one morning not long after Sebastian was granted his freedom to find him in the hallway. Covered in poo. I quickly realised that in addition to having poo all over his hands, he had it up to his elbows, on his tummy, on his face, up his nose, and in his hair. He was painted in poo. Only he knows if he ate any and he ain't telling.

The artist in him had clearly decided that his body was an insufficient canvas and had expanded his work to cover the walls and the carpet.

It was a warm July evening when we had put him to bed. We had decided against pajamas in the summer heat. He had woken up before us, gotten out of bed and removed his nappy which he didn't want to wear anymore (because it had poo in it). And then he decided he wanted to explore this new medium.

I was paralyzed with disgust. I began to scream. Marc came running. He took control of the situation. He picked up Seb by the feet (the only clean part of him) and placed him in the bath tub. He went downstairs and loaded up with cleaning products. He scrubbed the walls and the carpet. He then scrubbed Sebastian.

From then forward Sebastian was dressed for bed in a onsies that snapped regardless of weather. And we never made the same mistake with Abigail.

Honestly, the first child is a trial. There should be special allowances made for all oldest children.