Sesame Street's got nothing on me

There are people in this world who continually collide with disaster. I am one of those people and one of my disasters is two and half years old who I'll refer to as, Mr. Bean. I try not to let his English accent woo me, especially when it emits, with miniature Tony Blair vocals, "Jessy, I've soiled my trousers." Cute it may seem -until I have to help him change his poopie drawers. For some bizarre twist of fate I always seem to be just in the perfect vicinity to be sneezed on, peed on and pooped on. A couple weeks ago we were having our morning meeting on the carpet and my red-headed Mr. Bean, during a particular rousing song, looks me in the face and sneezes. Not only do I get a snotty booger on my cheek but it happened so quickly I didn't even have time to shut my eyes. (Did you know that sensitive baby wipes hurt if you try to clean your eyeballs with them?) Today I barely survived two attempts at my hygienic life. The first was this morning. His mother bid him goodbye and he went over to our art studio, sat at the table and promptly pooped his pants. I recognized the "poo face" seconds too late. He waddled to the bathroom with me as I gathered a fresh pair of "trousers", gloves and wipes. Being the conserving type that I am I didn't want to throw away the undies, now hosting a rounded turd resembling a dirty baseball, nor did I want to send the turd home. I leaned over the toilet and tried to gingerly roll it into the basin. It fell with a kur-plunk. Back splashing me...IN THE FACE. I managed to keep my breakfast down. The second attempt was this afternoon when I reminded him to go pee. Apparently uncircumcised preschool-aged urinary members are harder to aim because just as I was reminding him to hold "peter" down pee shot up at my leg and I leaped away with no seconds to spare, saving only what hadn't already been previously "poo-splashed" on.

I came home to check the numbers on my pay-check stub. Nope, not enough digits.