I saw that look of disgruntled determination on A.'s face towards the end of our meal. My suspicions were confirmed when, about a minute later, Dave said he smelled something awful.
These things always happen when you don't have an extra diaper with you--or wipes, don't they? We were getting a little too confident about our parenting skills and left home without our diaper bag. We have since been humbled.
I don't want to be too gross or graphic, but there are reasons I love cloth diapers and one of them is the nice bit of elastic at the top that keeps "stuff" contained. Unfortunately, A. wasn't wearing a cloth diaper.
Dave and I split up. I volunteered to clean the highchair while he took A. to the bathroom. And now I know why people use those cart and highchair cover things. I am not a germaphobe in the least, so I never understood them before. But now I realize they are appealing because you never know what was there before you. It could have been an A. explosion. (I cleaned it up really well and used those Purell moist towelette things, but still.)
Dave said he was dry-heaving in the bathroom and I thought I might lose my waffle fries. That's how bad it was.
I sent E. in to the men's bathroom with a handful of more moist towelettes. That was my contribution. Then I sat at a nearby table and waited. I saw one man open the door, take one step inside, and hightail it back out. No joke. A good while later, Dave and A. came out, A. wearing nothing but Dave's humongous sweater. Then we did the walk of shame through the rest of the restaurant. Not only did our kid have the most disgusting diaper of his life, but we were also super unprepared. That's right teenyboppers, this is what you have to look forward to. I'd like to think we were a walking advertisement for birth control.