This morning, I caught my Pretty Much Totally Potty Trained son in my closet. Pooping in his new pajamas. Sans underwear. Yes, yes. Lets all observe a moment of silence for the brand new pj bottoms.
I, erm, handled the situation [like a reptile] in such a way that, how should I put it? My child might remember until [the therapy couch] next week or so.
Here's our [first of many, I'm sure] conversation on the topic:
The Boy: Hey, Mommy! Member when I pooped in my pants?
Me: Yes, I remember.
The Boy: That was not good, when I pooped in my pants.
Me: No, it wasn't really good.
TB: That was BAD, when I pooped in my pants.
Me: (omgINeverSaidBad) Welllll, it wasn't really *BAD,* it just wasn't...great.
TB: I'M VERY SORRY I POOPED IN MY PANTS, MOMMY!
Me: [Insert your own witty ending here because I'm all balled up in the corner, rocking back and forth, baaaaaaack and forth.]