The "poop" follies

I know every mother in the world can write a whole chapter on poop. I mean, we face it every day during a diaper change or a toddler playing with "play-do" as I like to call it, or a child that has an accident and things of this nature.

How about when something is sooo hilariously funny - about poop or something poopy?

Here's why I ask...

A week or so ago, we had the wonderful fortune of testing out our emergency fire preparedness. Why? You ask? Well... We have a stove. A stove that is probably from 1940. It is about 40 something inches wide with two ovens side by side, one smaller and one bigger. You know what kind I'm talking about, the one even grandma traded in years back. Well, said stove works, so that is no issue, it functions as an oven should and the stove burns dinner just fine.

What the snafu was, was that one of the burners decided to go ka-put. (It's an electric stove)
It didn't just go "quietly into the night" no, this burner somehow burned out, then shorted out and then caused sparks and an arc of electricity to cut through a 1/4 inch iron pot that I was boiling water in. For those of you not familiar, water and electricity really should not be in the same company. Well, since there was a hole, and there was water in the pot, this created electrical fire, sparks and flames. This feels like one of the songs the kids used to sing... "corn in the pot, pot with a hole, hole leaked water, water in the stove and the whole thing caught fire, fire, fire!" kinda songs...
Well, I think everyone headed in a different direction... which is alot of directions and just pure chaos when about 7 of us are in the kitchen. The dog is barking wildly, Dad juggling the pot holder as he swatted flames up the wall - (pot, not fire holder) He yells at one of the kids to head to the basement to turn off breakers, Dad is at the helm of the stove, Mom is yelling and shoving kids off to the outside family room until finally, we are left in the dark with a scorched wall, a water logged stove and the lovely smell of burned corn and I *think* plaster and metal.
Well, crisis managed. We called the landlord and he promised to come over the next morning.
Sadly, no-one got to eat burned-pot corn.
We did find 3 fire extinguishers in the basement door after we started clean up. Huh!, wonder how long those have been there?

The next morning - we finally get to the poop follies - The landlord is due to arrive, Gracie is in cute little pink panties as she has started to potty train. Now, she has been doing great, to her credit, but - as we've come to realize - she is a little slow on the "poop in the potty" idea.
The kids and I are playing on the floor with Thomas the train, Shodi is playing with us and says "smells like poop, who pooped?" Well, Gracie ever so proud squeels "I did, I did" with such a pretty smile. We lift her lil dress and see nothing out of the ordinary...
"Gracie, turn around" She does and there is the offending culprit. A big baseball size lump in the backside of her panties. I am shuffling around to find a spot to set Gabe down so he can play a moment without Mommy, kids are laughing hysterically and Gracie gets the idea "I should take these panties off - now" So she slides the panties down, kicks them into the air, with offending poop ball, and panties go flying - but poop ball does not. No. It lands with a thud on my carpet in front of Gracie and Shodi. The panties made it free and landed in the dining room. Think I'll pass on lunch.
And Here's the landlord!
So, we are scrambling, almost tackling the poopball, with wipes so we can pick this thing up and dispose of it, pulling Gracie's skirt down from around her head, and I am trying to look somewhat composed before the landlord thinks I am comepletely insane. He, however, did rent to a woman with 11 kids at home, so I'm sure he thinks sanity is not a permanent resident. I mean, there's no room, right?

Well, we escaped poop questionability from the landlord. narrowly.

This was almost as bad as the time I had "poop shrapnel" - perhaps another time I will write on this in another chapter of our poop follies.