Tuesday, August 17, 2010

That's some development

See that white building to the left?  I pooped on the step there once.

We were driving into North Battleford in The Guy's truck with Ky dozing in the back.  Passing the Western Development Museum sparked a memory for me.  So, I blurted it out much to the amusement -- and likely amazement -- of my co passengers.

I was about 8 years old or so when my family and a million of my closest cousins went to the museum.  The entire grounds contain a museum and a semi circle of buildings: each mini museums, where people could see what a settlement town would have looked like.  We had wandered through the museum itself and then continued on to the little example town. 

It was full of all sorts of amazing things that children aren't allowed to touch and desperately want to anyway.  Doodads and knick knacks, books and pictures, shiny things and old machines.  It was while we were in one of the buildings that my tummy started to gurgle.

I knew I had to go to the bathroom.  I hadn't been feeling well that day anyway, but since it was likely due to the considerable amount of candy I had purchased without my parents knowledge and scarfed down before they noticed I was missing, I figured it best to keep it a secret.  I also wasn't about to use a public bathroom to do number 2 so I set out to wait.

I feigned boredom at the constant gawking of old timey things and went outside to wait for the group.  I wandered around until I realized movement was not helping things.  Then I sat on the top stairs of one of the buildings hoping the added pressure on my bottom would keep things in place.

I thought I was in the clear.  Until I heard the dreaded gurgle again.  It seemed to have a life of it's own and soon, so did my bowels.  I sat on the steps in my short summer shorts and died a little as I filled my cute little beige with brown flowers underwear and overflowed from the bottom of my shorts onto the step.

It was there Mom found me.  She was very matter of fact about the whole thing, though I imagine slightly horrified to find her 8 year old rather than her 2 year old with a full set of shorts.  She carted me away, cleaned me up as best she could and got me back to Grandma's somehow.  We never spoke of it again, but I cannot drive by the museum without thinking,

See that white building to the left?  I pooped on the step there once.


  1. That is so horrifying. And also funny. I can't decide what to feel.


Crap monkies say "what?"