Stinky Cheese Boy

First thought:

What a difference a day makes! It was so so so grey here yesterday, and today it's blue skies, crisp and clear. Still 35 degrees, but we'll take it. Sooooo good to wear short sleeved shirts! (Does that make you warm climate peeps smile? Short sleeves at 35 degrees?)

Second thought:

I have a gripe. And I'm really not the kind of person that likes to gripe. (Remember me, the one writing the book "It bothers me that you bother me." I feel guilty when I complain.)

Anyhow, here's my gripe--

Today I went to the Ear, Nose, Throat doctor for a follow-up visit (see Monday's blog).

From the MINUTE, and I mean MINUTE, I walked into the office, I could smell a poopy diaper.

Yeh, I said it: a POOPY DIAPER.

It was the kind of smell that turns me into a giddy school girl. Like, suddenly I'm in 3rd grade and someone in class has gas, and the teacher wants us all to be serious, but I just can't do it. So I get sent to the principle.

You know, that kind of smell?

So, like I said, I couldn't help myself. All I could think was, "Woo. That's got to be some diaper!"

And sure enough I was right.

As soon as I sat down to complete the new patient paperwork, a little 3 year boy old walked over to me--in what I think was  a "poopy cloud"--and said, "Hi!"

I couldn't reply.

Couldn't even get a word out; I was laughing so hard.

This little guy was so stinky. I named him Stinky Cheese Boy (SCB for short). (And yet he was so friendly. Funny that kids can be literally sitting in poop and still be friendly.)

Anyway, under normal circumstances, I would have been friendly with Stinky Cheese Boy, but given that these were smelly circumstances, that was too much to ask of me.

I needed Stinky Cheese Boy to leave me alone.

Not because I couldn't handle the stink, but because I couldn't control my laughter. If he didn't leave me alone soon I was going to be asked to leave the doctor's office (and probably sent to another kind of doctor--ahem).

But Stinky Cheese Boy took a liking to me. He wasn't going anywhere. I was a Stinky Cheese Boy magnet.

I didn't know what to do.

I still don't know what to do.

What's my responsibility to society? What's Stinky's responsibility? Do I have a right to a smell-free medical zone? Doesn't he have a right to a sweet smelling patootie?

So my gripe today isn't really about smelly diapers, it's that I don't really know the proper etiquette for talking to other parents about their kiddos. It seems like a lose-lose situation.

Where's Dear Abby when I need her?

Lucky for me, the nurse called me in just a quick 22 minutes after I sat down with SCB. (So sadly, I don't know if he ever got his oil changed.)

But that episode made me wonder, "Should I have helped SCB get a new diapee?"

What would you do?

a. Kindly let his mom know he needs a diaper change.
b. Pretend Stinky Cheese Boy isn't Stinky Cheese Boy, but just a boy--and ignore the obvious?
c. Ask the receptionist--really loudly--if she has any GLADE orange/cinnamon room spray?
d. Start shouting, "Sweet Cheesus it smells in here."

(And yes, those are the only options.)