I just don't really want to deal with other people's poop.
Earlier this summer, we were out for a long drive when I pulled into a fast food joint with The Wife and the kids. (For the sake of anonymity, I'll call the place "McFastfood's.") When I went to get Thing 3 (our toddler girl) out of the van, I could tell not only that she had pooped, but that the diaper had failed to contain all of the poop. So, while The Wife took care of the other three kids, I grabbed Thing 3 and the diaper bag and headed off to the McFastfood's restroom to deal with some poop.
It was a small restroom with a sink, a urinal, and one handicap toilet stall with a diaper changing table on the wall of the stall. No one was in the restroom, so I took Thing 3 into the stall, opened the diaper changing table, and took care of things. I cleaned the poop off of her back, and got as much off of her clothes as I could. I delicately and skillfully (I've done this a few times) got her poop-stained clothes off of her without getting more poop on her or on the diaper changing table. (Not as easy as it sounds.) I put the poop-stained clothes into a scented bag designed for just that purpose. (For those of you who don't have children, yes, they sell scented bags for the sole purpose of containing the stink of clothing that has been pooped on. If they didn't, basically all children's clothing would have to be considered disposable.)
Once I finished dealing with Thing 3's poop, I took her back out to the PlayPlace to play with Thing 1 and Thing 2. The Wife had placed our order and was watching the other kids while waiting for our food. She handed me Thing 4, our little baby boy, and asked me if I could change his diaper, too, so that afterwards she could feed him. (I don't like changing diapers, but since I can't breastfeed the baby it seems only fair-ish that I change a diaper every once in a while.)
So, I took the baby to the bathroom, but this time I was not alone. Someone was at the urinal, and someone was in the stall. So, I left the bathroom and positioned myself at a table where I could watch the bathroom door and see when the people who were in there would exit.
As the baby and I were thus waiting, an older lady came up to me and started to comment about how cute the baby was. She was speaking the truth, because, dang, The Wife and I make some darn cute babies! As we talked, she said what almost everyone tells me at one point or another, "enjoy them while you can." (#enjoythemwhileyoucan)
By the time I got away from the nice lady, I had no idea what the status of the bathroom population was anymore. So, I took the baby and the diaper bag and went back into the restroom. The stall was empty, so I entered, locking the door behind me. The smell of the place almost knocked me over, but I managed to maintain my footing and get the baby to the changing table. Luckily, the baby only had a wet diaper, so I was done dealing with poop for the time being.
Or so I thought.
I had finished putting the new diaper on the baby, and was starting to snap his onesie back on him, when the overwhelming stench started to get to me again. I glanced over at the toilet, and that's when I saw it:
There was poop on the toilet seat! Not just a little poop. There was a lot of poop! It wasn't a turd; it was spread all over the top of the toilet seat. It was as if someone had tried to frost a cake, but the frosting was poop and the cake was the toilet seat. It was disgusting.
I was both awestruck and dumbfounded. (And grossed out.)
And so, as I finished getting the baby ready, I had a choice to make. I could A) run out of that restroom, get as far away from that toilet as possible, and never look back! Or I could B) leave the restroom and immediately tell a McFastfood's employee that they needed to go into that restroom with a gas mask and a fire hose and do some serious cleaning.
I chose neither of those options. Being a man who regularly deals with poop, I chose option 3). I took the baby wipes that I already had at the ready, I went over to the toilet, and I wiped it down. I cleaned another man's poop off of the toilet seat!
Why, you ask? Why would I clean a grown man's poop off of the toilet seat when I didn't have to do so? Was it because I'm amazingly altruistic, always looking to do things to help out my fellow man?
Nope. I did it out of fear. I did it because I was afraid that someone might see me coming out of the restroom, then go in, discover the Poopocalypse, and blame me for it. I cleaned up the poopy mess simply because I didn't want anyone to think that I was the one who had smeared poop on the toilet seat like cream cheese on a bagel. I'm not that good-hearted. I just didn't want anyone pointing fingers at me.
So, I cleaned off the toilet seat, washed, washed, washed, and washed my hands, then left the restroom hoping to never return again. By the time I got back to The Wife, the other kids had already eaten their food and were romping around in the McFastfood's PlayPlace. My food was mostly cold, but that didn't stop me from eating it.
You may wonder how I could eat food after dealing with all of that poop? Simple. I'm a Dad. Dealing with poop is second nature to me. I'm not about to let a little poop get in the way of my food!