My 3-year-old son had a hard time with potty training and I was on him all the time.
One day we stopped by McDonald’s to pick up a quick bite to eat between errands. The restaurant was packed.
As I was enjoying my burger, I got a really unpleasant whiff of something. First, I checked my 7-month-old daughter, but she was clean as can be. Then I realized that my son hadn’t been to the bathroom for a while, but he swore he didn’t have an accident.
I thought, “Oh no, he pooped his pants and I don’t have a change of clothes.” So I asked him again, “Are you sure you didn’t go in your pants?”
“No!” he repeated.
I was so sure he was fibbing and the smell kept getting stronger, so I asked one last time, “Tell me the truth, did you poop your pants?”
He looked up, angry, jumped up on the chair, yanked down his pants and yelled, “Look Mom! It was just farts!”
While everyone around us nearly choked on their burgers my son quietly sat back down and kept eating like nothing had happened. I wanted to melt to the floor.
A few people reassured me by thanking us for the best laugh they’d had in a while and then an old man came up to the car as we were getting ready to leave. He turned to my son and said, “Don’t worry pal. My wife accuses me of the same thing all the time, I just never had the nerve to prove myself like you did.”
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