Anyways, while at Wal-Mart, Cameron had to go to the bathroom. I would rather take my chances squatting in a patch of poison ivy than use the facilities at Wal-Mart, but Cameron was insisting that this was, indeed, a potty emergency.
So, I left my cart outside the bathroom and walked her inside while holding Jack. I was also holding my breath.
After she used the facilities, she required some assistance (aka her ass wiped) so I set Jack down. While my back was turned, he toddled into the next stall and proceeded to give himself a bath in the toilet.
I'm pretty sure Jack was more harmed by his mother's reaction (which included shrieks worthy of any slasher flick) than by the germs in his kiddie pool. I was horrified, however, there was nothing that could be done. I took him to the sink and scrubbed him with soap and water until he was sterile enough for surgery.
Had this happened to my first child, I would have taken her to the ER, insisted she be admitted overnight for observation and then taken myself to the hospital chapel to pray. So in comparison, a little shrieking and scrubbing seemed like a perfectly acceptable and tame reaction.
A few months ago, I published a post about ridiculous products that parents get suckered into buying, which included this contraption:
I would like to extend my apologizes to the makers of whatever this called. Had I purchased this product, Jack would not be on the verge of developing Typhoid Fever.
On the bright side, if he does survive this, he might just have the immune system of a super hero. I'll let you know how he fares this winter. If he does well, you can all take your children swimming in the stalls.
