POOP FILE #3

This file was supposed to be file #2. It is not as bad as #2, but definitely a file in it's own right.
Scene.
Disneyland.
Be forewarned all you Disney fans, unless you buy passes when the kids are older, and out of diapers, some kind of horrifying poop story is lurking...waiting for you...somewhere. Toontown? Adventureland? Tomorrowland? It's there somewhere.
This is mine.
Actually, mine involves coming home from Mickey land.
It was late at night, and we were so tired we started to wonder if we were really at home dreaming we were at Disneyland! The baby was a little fussy, but in our extreme fatigue, we did not take the time to do the 5 point check we normally do upon wailing. (too hot check, too cold check, tummy check, diaper check, and pain somewhere check.) All we wanted to do was get home.
A few miles down the freeway, our two older boys were sleeping, but our sweet baby boy was not. He was gently fussy. He is so good natured, later on I wondered why he had not been screaming the entire time, but as it was, he was just murmuring his displeasure here and there. Joe and I figured that he was just hungry, and would wait just a few more miles until we got to a more populated, less ghetto, better lighted area to pull off and feed him. Within a few minutes, his good nature had run its course, and our baby was SCREECHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It was time to pull over, lights or no, murderers or no.
We pulled into an EXTREMELY one horse gas station. One flickering light, one gas pump, and many shady children of god lurking about. No bathroom.
I went to the back to pull my boy out, and notice that he is wet from his shoulders down. Soaked. Awwww, poor boy! He must be cold! His diaper must have shifted and he peed himself to soaked capacity!
Uh..........no. These are not called the pee files.
I put him on the seat to change him, unbuttoned his little onesie, and my jaw literally, LITERALLY dropped open. (I always thought that was a figure of speech.)
How do I effectively portray this moment?
If you filled a big black iron witch's cauldron with thick, pudding like, mustardy poop, and then took a naked baby by the armpits, plunged him into the pot up to his shoulders, that is what he looked like. From the shoulders down to his feet, he was PLASTERED IN POOP.
We could conjecture for a long time as to how this was possible, how all this gunk worked its way up to his armpits, down his arms, up his back, and down to his feet, but is there an answer?
It just did.
So, here we are, 11:30 at night, with no water around. Fortunately, we had a gigantic pack of wipes. But first, how to get the clothing off without war painting our baby's face with poop?
I love having a husband with such brawny, sexy arms. Within Joe's golden tendons was the force necessary to take a baby's onesie, and gently rip it in half right off the baby! Without harming baby, or spreading bio waste anywhere! I had never been so attracted to my man.
We used the entire, ENTIRE pack of wipes on that crime scene. Finally, an hour later, we were able to complete our coma like journey home. See, how I thought that was the worst poop experience ever? Then came poop file #2, and I was mistaken. But you gotta admit, it was still pretty bad. Oh well. Now we just laugh about it.