We were out on the playground this afternoon when my friend waved me over to the play structure. Wes was there, hanging onto his bottom, hopping around. Crap.
I scooped him up, fireman style and ran to the gate, threw it open, ran into the fellowship hall, ripped his pants off and plunked him down onto the toilet.
He didn't make it, but I didn't have time to worry about the poop all over the place because Charlie and James were still out on the playground.
Leaving Wes sitting on the potty yelling for me, I ran back out to the playground to locate James and Charlie. As soon as I poked my head out the door I heard Charlie "MOOOOOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!!"
He was standing in a tree about ten feet off the ground.
"DON'T MOVE! I HAVE TO CLEAN WES UP AND THEN I'LL COME HELP YOU."
I called a friend over and asked her to keep an eye on James. Charlie was still yelling for me when I ran back into the bathroom. Wes was whining and calling for me. I wet a handful of paper towels in the sink and angry cleaned off the toilet, the floor, his shoe, and his legs. Then I left him on the potty while I ran to check on the other kids.
Poked my head out the door, "MOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMM"
Poked my head in the bathroom "MAAAAMAAAA!"
Poked my head out the door, "MOOOOOOOOOOMMMMM!" Told Charlie to wait JUST ONE MORE MINUTE!
Returned to the bathroom. Wes's undies were not salvageable. Threw them in the trash. Made a mental note to stick a five dollar bill in the nursery offering Sunday for destroying their bathroom. More wet paper towels. Counted to ten. To twenty. To five thousand. It didn't work.
"WHERE DO WE GO TO THE POTTY, WES?! DO YOU NEED TO WEAR A DIAPER AGAIN?!" This was the third (!!) potty accident of the day after all. That's a lot for a kid who went a year in undies with very few issues.
Picked up Wes's shorts to put them on him. They were covered in poop too. Rinsed them out in the potty. Told Wes he's going to have to put them on. We had NOTHING else. He is four. He cannot be naked on the school playground.
He refused. He yelled at me and ran away. He would not wear those shorts. I put his shoes on and told him to pull his shirt down as far as he can.
We went back to the playground holding Wes's shorts out at a distance. James was still playing nicely. Charlie was still stuck in the tree yelling for me. A friend saw me with naked-Wes and went to help coax Charlie down.
I led Wes back to the stroller where the only thing we had to cover him up was a BumGenius. Hooray for one size fits all! I strapped it on him and he ran off to play. This was not nearly as embarrassing for him as I was hoping for.
Charlie was out of the tree and Wes was playing (in a freaking diaper) so I relaxed and talked to my friends some more. A few minutes later, Wes ran by with a huge stick. I had just had the thought "Where did that huge stick come from?" when Wes raised it up over his head and hit my friend's oldest son in the face.
Time stood still as all the blood in my body rushed into my head and face and out of my mouth in the loudest, scariest mommy voice the kids have ever heard.
Wes was ripped off the play structure and plunked in the time out spot by the gate so fast his head spun. "WE DO NOT HIT WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU YOU HURT HIM YOU SAY YOU'RE SORRY WE'RE GOING HOME SIT DOWN WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?!!!"
I left him there looking afraid while I apologized profusely to my friend and her son, who was crying and holding his eye (O.M.G.). He had a huge scratch over his eyebrow. I grabbed Wes by the shoulders and showed him. "LOOK AT HIM. YOU HURT HIM. YOU SAY YOU'RE SORRY."
Apparently there was something so fascinating as to render him mute on the ground near his feet. Back to time out he went. "CHARLIE, IT'S TIME TO GO!"
Charlie didn't want to go, surprise! I didn't care! Go get your backpack and meet me by the gate!
I watched my friend's other kids while she ran for ice. Wes said he wanted to play some more. I resisted the urge to tell him that the next time he would be playing would be the day after I dropped him off at college and led him to the gate with Charlie. When my friend came back I made Wes apologize again and after she assured me her son's eye was alright we went to the car.
He fell asleep within minutes of pulling out of the parking lot, which seems like a good thing except that a nap during the day means he stays up way too late and has an awful day the next day, which is why he's acting so crazy today. Last night he didn't go to sleep until ten and during his time upstairs managed to climb to the top of the linen closet and open two packages of Tylenol Cold. I found two pills with NIBBLE MARKS on the counter and interrogated him like a CIA operative until he fessed up to putting them in his mouth then spitting them out. I was certain that he hadn't actually swallowed any pills, but I still checked on him every fifteen minutes until I went to bed.