The one about potty training..

Brace yourselves. It’s another poo post.   Time to close the page if  you’re squeamish at all.

Potty training is in full swing here, with all standard precautions. Downstairs we have 2 regular  IKEA potties, plus as special seat on the downstairs loo. (Seriously, whoever the genius was who designed a toilet seat with a flip down, built in child seat is , you’re awesome. I just need to remember to flip that sucker up before using it!)  Upstairs we have the steps attached to a potty seat, and then we also have a travel potty system that lives in the car .  When it comes to bodily waste from toddlers,  we’re probably over prepared. At least that was, until today.

Schmemelie, of earlier poop  fame, has taken to  toilet training well.  However, she’s also a small dictator and will only let the ‘big’ toilet be graced by  her  bottom.  (Oh yeah, it’s another  Schmemelie story. Are you surprised?).  She’s had a  few successes, a few fails, but knows when to call us over to “Kijk Mama, poep!” (Look Mama, poo!) .

Today was not her day.

Whilst watching a particularly engaging  episode of Teletubbies, she failed her attempts to hold back a poo until the last ‘Eh-Oh ‘.  Horrified with  herself,  she immediately dropped her pull up, ran for the potty as the offending poo dropped out of her pants, rolled across the carpet and was stepped in, as she made her mad dash, crying hysterically.

Fearlessly,  I reassured her she wasn’t in trouble,  and grabbed toilet paper to remove the offending turd after cuddles and placing her on the toilet. I cleaned up, and after a lot of singing and chatting coming from there, I heard the toilet flush along with a loud declaration of “KLAAR!” (finished!). I took the offending poo to the toilet, dropped it in, then  helped her wash her hands.

After popping her into the  living room,  I went back and tried to flush the poo and paper.

Except …

It didn’t  flush.   Sweet Holy Rising Tide of Shit, the bowl kept  filling. The water was a sludge of poo,  paper and god only knows what else.  It reached just below the rim, causing me to break into a nervous sweat … and then slowly receded.  It was at this point the stench hit me, and holding back the contents of  my stomach, I realised what had happened.

You know those things you dangle in the toilet that promise to help keep it clean, and help mask those smells?  The rim block?  Schmemelie had taken it off, and flushed it.  If you’re unfamiliar with  Dutch toilets,  here’s a small plumbing lesson.  Instead of a  bowl filled with water that everything falls into, we have a ‘shelf’ where everything lands, then is jetted away through a narrow pipe by water pressure somewhat equivalent to a  geyser erupting.  It had fallen into the pipe and was blocking the toilet.

Tentatively, I looked into the shit soup that was our toilet  bowl,  and  thought … “Maybe I can just flush it loose?” (If I can pass on one word of advice – if this ever happens to you, DO NOT FLUSH TWICE ).   By this stage our toilet looked and smelled like an open sewer as it threatened to overflow and flood our toilet and  hall way.

This was the moment I realised … I was going to have to put my hand in to clear the blockage.  I went to the kitchen,  grabbed a rubber glove,  held my breath and went in .

I realised the glove was completely unnecessary around the same time as it filled with soupy,  shitty water.   I’d underestimated how much digging I would need to do, and  retched slightly as I felt my  hand and arm inundated with poo soup.  I was  in  up  to my elbow when finally I managed to pull it free.

I then spent the next  30 minutes showering and scrubbing myself with bleach. Shit soup filled glove and offending rim block were dumped in the bin, and a serious talk with Schmemelie about what gets flushed down the toilet were next on the cards.

Schmemelie is now under strict toilet supervision, and I am adding emergency plumber to my list of skills …

 

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