Well, it has happened. I have passed a threshold, crossed a bridge.
I expected it to happen before this, really. Talked to other parents who'd been through it before, and knew my day would come. Expected it. Feared it.
Today, Noah woke up from his nap and started to cry and fuss in his usual way. Sometimes he falls back asleep though, so I wasn't in a hurry to go get him. But after a few minutes his cry reached a desperation pitch and I knew naptime was officially over. So I went in to get him out of his tent--a pack-n-play sort of thing that's a lot less headache than an actual pack-n-play.
As I went in, I realized that Noah was trying to say something. Boo-boo? How did he get a boo-boo? I could see his tear-streaked face pushing through the mesh of the tent. So I unzipped it.
The situation dawned on me in pieces. First, I realized his diaper was babyless, lying on the tent mattress. Was he trying to say "diaper"? He kept crying, and I still thought he might be hurt.
Until I saw his hand, clutching a rather large (and luckily, rather solid) turd. He was holding his poop in his hand. He was saying "poo-poo", not "boo-boo"! I ALMOST almost took a picture of him sitting there, crying pathetically, clutching his poo. But finding the camera was a tall order when I was laughing too hard to see straight anyway.
I gingerly helped him down, helped him throw his creation in the toilet, and we both scrubbed our hands thoroughly. Then, realizing that he had residue all over his bottom and legs, I decided that a bath was in order and plunked him directly into the tub. Somehow even though I was being careful. I still managed to get poo on both my pants and shirt.
I'm not sure how he didn't make an even bigger mess--there was some poo on the sheet, but none on his pillow or the insides of the tent! Mommy's learned her lesson though, and never again will Noah take a nap without pants.