We went camping for my friend’s “21 again” birthday, in which our usual campsite had been closed. We found ourselves, begrudgingly, at a new site hosting no water but a port-a-potty.
As Oponn and I journeyed to town to purchase water, we left our daughters (Oponn’s Nemo, age3; and my Ana, age 4) in the care of the Blondus Spousus of the Dingle-Dorfus.
Upon our return, we discovered Ana had a terrible bout of diarrhea. Taking Ana to the port-a-potty for her third trip of the afternoon, I stayed to keep her company while she finished. Ana points to the urinal on the side of the port-a-potty and asks me what the pink ‘soap’ is for. I look at Ana and tell her, “Ew, that’s where boys pee!”
Ana, looking quite mortified, exclaimed angrily, “But Daddy (Blondus Spousus of the Dingle-Dorfus) said it was soap! He did!”
I sigh and turn to yell down the hill to Blondus Spousus of the Dingle-Dorfus and ask him if he did, indeed, advise the girls the urinal cake was “soap.” Blondus Dorkus yelled back that he had, citing he felt it was safer than referring to it as "cake."
Ana began to cry and said, “Daddy said it was soap, so Nemo and I washed our hands with it.” Aha…no wonder child is experiencing diarrhea. Spray down both children in lysol and demand Blondus Dorkus be in charge of their diarrhea the rest of the weekend.
Unbelievably, Blondus Spousus of the Dingle-Dorfus is still breathing!