Babysitting Baby McBreasty

My good friend Chesty McBreasty found herself in a bit of a pickle yesterday. She had an interview for an opportunity at work, a very sick husband and a (almost) three year old that needed someplace to hang out for a while. Being the good friend that I am I said it was no problem for me to take him for a couple of hours so she could go to her interview. After all Easton is the same age as Fuzzy and they like to play together and I like little Easton because quite frankly he is hilarious. I have three boys anyways so this would be a piece of cake with Little Bear gone to school it would be the same difference.

Since I was going to have Easton through lunch, I was going to have to feed him. Normally it would be no big deal to feed an extra kid except that Easton is practically allergic to himself but mainly milk and any and all milk products, bi-products, and ingredients. Just about anything that looks like, sounds like, smells like, reminds you of, milk (did you know there is milk in bologna?) he can not have. My solution to this was to ask Chesty the only really important question, "What can he eat from the McDonalds menu?"

Fuzzy, Wee One and I picked Easton up from his school readiness program just before lunch and headed for the drive thru at "Rotten Ronny's" (aka McDonalds). When we got home I set the three boys up with their "nutritious" lunch. Only minutes after starting lunch Easton called me over "Steecy, I pee in your chair" he said in his oddly deep voice. Stupid, stupid me. I forgot that Easton is much farther along in the whole potty training thing then we are with Fuzzy and he wears underwear but needs to be reminded and I (the person who was supposed to do the reminding) dropped the ball on this one and now I had a little boy with urine dripping from the hem of his jeans. At least I have an unending supply of boys clothes at my disposal.

After my two boys devoured their lunch and Easton nibbled a couple of fries and drank his juice (which should have been a red flag since Easton is probably the heaviest three year old I have ever lifted out of a carseat and therefore is obviously a better eater) we got our shoes on to go outside to play on the climber in the backyard. "Steecy, dose fretch fries hert my tummy" Easton told me.
"Are you ok? Do you want to stay in?"
"No I play outside with Fuzzy".
No sooner did we get outside and everyone was busy with their trucks and tractors and Easton exclaimed, "Steecy, I hava go poop!"
I grabbed him in a football hold and rushed him like a player heading for the goal line to the house. The whole time with him grunting to hold it in.

I wiped his butt after what looked (and sounded) like an awfully loose bowel movement (always a strange thing to do with someone else's child) and we headed back outside. We just got back to the climber when Easton hollered again, "Steecy, I hava go poop again!"
With him under my arm I ran for the house again. This time we were just in time. This was not looking so good. He told me his tummy hurt and he wanted to stay in the house. Fuzzy was not exactly excited with the news that we were now going to watch a movie rather than play outside and refused to take his shoes off.

After a few more trips to the bathroom and a few "Imma gunna puke" false alarms I was more than relieved to get Chesty's text message saying she was on her way and would be there to pick up Easton soon. My response, "no problem. oh, by the way, Easton has the sh@#*".

Even with all the peeing and pooping and puking false alarms both boys talked about their time together all night. I think that next time they will have a blast minus the tummy troubles.

I'm happy to report that Easton was feeling fine but that evening and rather than introducing the flu to my entire household he most likely had a snack at his school readiness program that didn't agree with him. Thank god!