Normally there's plenty of warning. There have been times she's sitting on a chair and I watch her grow as she poops. Literally raises herself up with all the new 'padding.' Or the noxious smell wafting across the room (my child is apparently stinkier than most.)
One time, at my OB-Gyn's office, as I'm sitting on the table wearing a tissue-thin cloth 'robe' and a paper sheet, I hear the dreaded sound. Pbllblblblllblbllt! Pbblblbllblblt! Pbblt! Blblbllt! I can literally see her diaper ballooning out behind her. Naturally I hadn't bothered to bring my diaper bag, or even a diaper inside with me that visit. So I call the receptionist and ask if I have time to get dressed and back to my car. Oh, very much yes. The doctor will be very grateful if I could take care of that problem, and she'll just help the next person in the meantime. Phew!
So I get dressed, schlepp us out to the car, carrying her toxic-waste-style with my hands under her armpits, holding her out a foot in front of me as I watch the expanding stain on her pants. Naturally, every. single. person. on the way out stops me to tell me what an adorable child I have. Yeah yeah. Adorable. Coming through, people!
When I get to the car... Hmm... Where are my keys...? Are they in... Ugh. I see my keys locked inside. I kid you not. Worst. Day. Ever! Luckily, I had been locking myself out of stuff lately, so I quickly remembered the spare I kept in my little useless pocket in the jeans (the one for a comb?) Whew! Crisis averted!
