“What was that?” Grey asks from the driver’s seat as he looks up in his rearview mirror, then back down to the road.
“BRRRRRRRT!!!”
“Greyson… Hurry up and get us home,” I whisper, like any loud noise might make it worse.
“What the heck is happening?” His eyes bounce back and forth, trying to figure out what’s going on.
Gracie just stares at me through the mirror attached to the headrest above her rear-facing car seat with this strange look on her face. She hasn’t blinked, her eyes are just wide and focused solely on me. It’s abundantly quiet in the truck for a moment until I hear it. A sound you never want to hear.
The sound every parent fears when it comes from a baby.
A putrid smell overtakes the cab, causing me to gag. “Oh God!” I turn back to the front and open my window, practically sticking my head out of the gap.
“Holy shhhh! What is that smell?! Can someone tell me what’s going on?!” Greyson shouts from his seat, panic streaking his face.
“The nuclear bomb has been activated, GREYSON! Drive faster! This is DEFCON 1, FORD! DEFCON 1!!!” I yell, turning to him.
His eyes grow to the size of saucers as his skin becomes pale. He turns back to the road and presses on the gas, sending us sailing down our street. The tires screech as he stops the car in the middle of the driveway.
We both jump out of the car, and he goes around to grab Gracie, who’s now screaming from her current nasty wet state. He carries her in outstretched hands while we run to the front door. I quickly unlock it and turn off the security system.
“What do I do?! Where do I put her?!” Grey moves around frantically.
“Put her in the bath with her clothes, we’ll undress her there. OH GOD!!! I can see it leaking out! HURRY!”
He skips up the stairs, rushing into Gracie’s room and into her bathroom, then drops her down in the bath as she continues to scream and wail. I hurry over, kneeling by the bath, and begin removing her clothing as delicately as possible.
“What do you need me to do?” Greyson asks from behind me.
I can tell he’s still panicking. Little Tulip won’t stop crying, but there’s really not much we can do until she’s completely out of this mess and cleaned.
“Start the showerhead and rinse her off as I remove items. She won’t be happy, but we don’t really have a choice. Just try not to get her head or face, and make sure to check the temperature before hosing her down,” I tell him calmly as I try to soothe Gracie as well. “It’s okay, Little Tulip. We’re gonna make it all better soon, I promise.”
Greyson does as instructed and rinses Gracie’s back off once I’ve managed to pull off her coat and her dress down. Thank God for the zipper at the back. If I had to pass it over her head, that would have been another nightmare.No one wants poop in their hair.
“Uh-oh…”
I look up at Greyson, who scrunches up his face and presses a hand to his stomach. “Babe… what’s wrong?”
“I… I don’t feel so…” His stomach cuts him off, making a very unpleasant sound. He stands up straight, eyes wide as he hangs the showerhead back into place. “Oh, no… oh, no, no, no!” He sprints out of the bathroom as he repeats his chant.
“GREYSON! Don’t you dare leave me to deal with this alone!”
“I can’t! It’s coming out! I’m sorry!” he yells back.
I can’t help but giggle even given the dire situation at hand.
After thirty minutes, I’ve rinsed Gracie off, then gave her a nice warm bath where I made sure she was nice and clean and, most importantly, poop free. I’m guessing the whole event made herpretty sleepy since she knocked out as I was putting her into her onesie for bedtime.
I quietly close the door to her room and go in search of Greyson. I find him in his en-suite bathroom with the door locked. I knock and wait for him to answer. “Wolf? Are you okay?”
“Ugh… why is this happening?” he groans from the other side of the door.
“It’s the brussels sprouts most likely. I didn’t have any, and I’m fine. I wonder how the others are doing.” I chuckle.
“This isn’t funny, Em. I haven’t left the toilet in thirty minutes. And I’m not sure I still can!”
“I’m sorry. You’re right, this isn’t funny. What can I do to help?” I lean my ear against the door, listening in.
