This story doesn't start at the beginning, but I can't think of a more appropriate way to start.
It was a day much like this one in the not too distant past. The kids were loaded into the car, and life was good. We were headed down the highway to a friend's house as we had done many times before. But this time was different. My wife and I had no idea what was in store for us only hours later.
Our friends had been in the process of remodeling their new home, and upon arrival, the signs of work were still visible… a few boards here and there, maybe a drill sitting on the counter, and a few other things. None of this was out of the ordinary, and we were just glad to be among friends enjoying good fellowship and food. The kids were behaving as usual, the little one was continuing the typical infant cycle of eating, cooing, crying, and repeating, and the three year old was settling down with her plate of munchies.
Then the wheels of fate started turning. Our gracious host had decided to try his hand at making a buffalo chicken bean dip of some sort, which turned out very good. The three year old chose to partake in some of the dip, which may have been the straw that broke the camel's back.
After finishing her plate, she proceeded to wander around the house, probably looking for the cat, or hunting a ghost, which normally is no cause for alarm. However this time was different. She was too quiet for too long. If my fatherly instincts wouldn't have kicked in, I have no doubt that things could have been much worse.
What I failed to mention earlier was that one of the rooms under renovation was a bathroom. The toilet had been pulled out, and was now in the front room of the house. By the time I got to it, there was now something on the toilet… the three year old, pants around her ankles, doing exactly what she was told to do, poop on the potty. I quickly tried to explain that while she was doing a good thing, the choice of location was just a little off. This was met with much resistance, because she saw nothing wrong. She had to drop a load, found a toilet, and proceeded to do so. What was the big deal?
I took the only action possible at that point. I picked her up, pants still around her feet, and rushed to the nearest toilet that was in a working bathroom.
So what happened? Which potty did she poop in? Check back next Monday, or you can speculate in the comments and I may let you know early.