Yesterday I picked J up from camp and we came home. It was a brutally hot day and the kiddie pool was set up in the back yard. He ran through the house and jumped in the pool, stopping only to yell over the fence and invite his friends from next door over to swim. I added more water to the pool and prepared for 4 kids in a tiny pool.
The neighbors arrived and jumped right in. I noticed the water was somewhat cloudy but figured it was probably sunscreen. Unfortunately not. After our neighbors took a quick swim they headed home. I began to strip J out of his wet clothes so we could head inside for quiet time. It was only as I pulled down his bathing suit that the disgusting reality of our cloudy pool hit me.
J had pooped. Now I had a kid covered in poop. A pool full of poop. Toys covered in poopy water. And…oh no…the neighbors. I took a deep breath and dialed the phone. I can’t think of too many other times in my life when I have been quite so mortified. How do you explain to someone that their kids have been swimming in your kid’s poop?
At first, I could tell, my neighbor was slightly horrified. After a minute, she started to laugh. For as hard as women can be on one another, it’s amazing what mothers will forgive each other sometimes. I guess I’m lucky, not only is she a neighbor, she is a true friend.
