Poo Mountain

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On Sunday we decided to take the kids for a hike up Sugarloaf Mountain. It’s about a half mile each way with lovely, winding paths and 5 million stairs. (They deceptively placed the stairs on the “easy” trail. Any trail with that many stairs is decidedly NOT easy.)

The way up went well. The kids enjoyed the trails and looking at the colorful leaves.

Then, we reached the summit. Beautiful views of Lake Superior and colorful forests surrounded us. It was a lovely moment until…

“Mom. I have to go to the bathroom.”

I made the mistake of asking him, “1 or 2?”

“BOTH.”

There are no toilets in the middle of the woods.

I told the boy I could take him in the woods and he could do his business there, off the path.

“NO,” he shouted in horror. “I need one of those little blue bathrooms!”

I knew for a fact there wasn’t a port-a-potty within 10 miles. Try as I might, that boy was NOT going to go to the woods to poop.

So, we started charging down the mountain in the hopes we’d make it to the car and the car would make it to the nearest public toilet in time.

“I gotta go, too,” whined my other son.

We were having a Code Red emergency…and Aili wanted to stop to examine every rock and leaf on the way down.

“We need to GO,” I hollered. “Husband, take Aili! I’ll run with the boys!”

It was like one of those movies were people are being chased through the woods by a ghost ax-murderer. We were running and looking behind us and straining to see how close we were to the car. All it needed was a John Williams soundtrack and we would have had a major blockbuster on our hands.

Finally, we made it to the car. But, it was too late.

The ax-murderer got the boys.

Oh, and they pooped in their pants.

And they were wearing boxer shorts.

And they had recently had full Italian dinners.

As we raced back to town with the windows rolled down for much-needed ventilation, I called my mother since she lived the closest to the mountain.

“Mom, could you please get the bath tub ready? I’ll also need a lot of paper towel and soap. No, it would be best if you didn’t ask questions. We’ll be there in 5 minutes.”

Robert looked at me as I plopped him in the tub at Grandma’s house.

“Next time we should go up a shorter mountain. One that has blue potties,” he said very seriously.

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One thought on “Poo Mountain

  1. I found your blog after google-ing how much I hate Caillou. After I stumbled upon your amazing list of reasons that show sucks I saw your post on Poo Mountain. FREAKING HILARIOUS! Sorry you had to go through that but it totally made my day at work less boring!

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