I schlepped him and my "hobbies" to the bathroom. I laid him on the changing table and proceeded through my process. Side note: I cloth diaper so I have to empty the diapers before I take them home. Actually, disposables should be doing this too.
Anyway, I turned my head to get the new diaper out of the diaper bag and when I turned back around, I saw the worst thing so far in my raising boys days.
J had apparently started playing with his diaper and the wad of poop had fallen on his chest.
O. M. G. I had a little panic attack but in my head I was telling myself to stay calm so J doesn't freak out and try to grab it. Well, he heard my thoughts because at that time his tiny, fat hand started moving towards said wad.
In a freak mom moment I grabbed the poo and flung it across the handicapped stall and into the toilet. Then we just stared at each other and agreed to never speak of the moment again. In a way, we bonded.
When I got him down, he walked over to the toilet and flushed the wad down the drain.
Never a dull moment.