“Hurricane Sh*trina” – A toddler pooped and her dad had feelings about it

Jesse Mab-Phea Hill

“So I was having a pretty good day,” dad Jesse Mab-Phea Hill began and readers instantly knew the sting in this Facebook post was going to be in the tail. Literally.

Content warning: images contain poop

So I was having a pretty good day. Dropped the boy off at school, worked out, let the dogs outside and began chilling…

Posted by Jesse Mab-Phea Hill on Thursday, 11 May 2017

Calm before the storm

Now blogging at Parenthood The Struggle, Jesse went on to describe his (ominously) idyllic morning.

“Dropped the boy off at school, worked out, let the dogs outside and began chilling like a boss in my man cave in the basement. Mayra was out teaching her workout class, Alessandra was asleep in her room and the dogs were outside. I had the house to myself and I was taking full advantage of watching unimpeded YouTube videos.”

See. That was Jesse’s first mistake. Assuming that this calm was the kind of calm that does not come before a storm. Because let me tell you, a storm was imminent. A hurricane, in fact.

Basement tale

Hankering for some chocolate cake, the oblivious and toddler-trusting Jesse headed upstairs to snaffle a piece. Spirits are high. He’s probably even whistling a cheery tune.

But wait. What? His nostrils began to twitch. He has caught wind of something and it is not chocolate cake. Nu-uh.

He soon realises the odour was coming from… upstairs. Shudder. 

This is playing the opposite way to a standard horror film, we realise, but it does not make what happens next any less terrifying.

The horror above

So, emerging from the basement, Jesse begins to… scream. Seems legit.

“I run up the stairs screaming no, no, no, no, till I get to Alessandra’s room,” Jess says. “There she is, standing at the baby gate, butt naked, holding her diaper, covered head to toe in her own crap.”

There it is. The storm. It looks like poop.

Denial seemed the appropriate first response.

“It’s bad. It’s worse then any other time she decided to explore in her diaper. I was tempted to close her door, wait till Mayra got home and pretend like I was asleep so she would have to deal with it. But yesterday was Mexican mothers day and I didn’t want to be a dick.”

Forced entry

Surveying the scene, Jesse takes a sort of bolshy, tactical response team-type approach.

“There is literally no good place to pick my daughter up to get her to the bath, so I just knock the baby gate over so she can walk out on her own terms,” he explains.

Alessandra is having none of this gung-ho, military-style plan. She wants her Daddy and she wants him now. #SnuggleTime

“Instead of walking out of her room she smiles up at me and extends her arms for me to pick her up. I yell ‘Hell no!'”

Alessandra stares at him, and glides eerily and poopily by, towards the stairs. Is she headed for the basement? Can she levitate? Did she say “Red Rum?” What will happen next? Gasp.

We got a sh*t-uation

Luckily, Jesse averts further crisis, realising that if he’s going to sort this out, he has to commit and GO IN.

“At this point I’m forced to pick her up because the bath wasn’t down stairs. I use 2 fingers on both hands to lift her by her armpits and I shuffle the 2 of us off to the bathroom.”

Phew. Sh*t-uation contained.

20 minutes later, Jesse’s got Alessandra all tidy and poop-free. Crisis averted. 

But wait… PLOT TWIST… Jesse realises he has to clean her poopy room, too. Oh the humanity of it! 

“Hurricane Sh*trina”

“I haven’t even looked in her room yet because when I first got to her room Alessandra was standing there like a [poop] covered bridge troll,” Jesse explains. Once he peers inside, he realises it IS a horror movie, after all.

“The walls, the toys, the windows, the curtains, the play bench, the floor, the baby piano, my hopes, all covered in crap. It looked like a real category 5 sh*t storm blew thru her room. Hurricane Sh*trina if you will.”

Faced with de-pooping a DEFCON 1 nursery (see pics above), Jesse became disoriented and possibly distressed.

“I have no clue where to start,” he admits, so he sends a distress signal to his absent wife, perhaps hoping to be rescued. Tick tick nope. Denied a life raft, he is forced to get on with the task at hand.

“I won’t get into any more graphic details but 2 rolls of paper towels, 5 stolen gym towels, 1 bottle of pinsole, 1 bottle of bleach, 1 big bag of crap covered toys and 2 1/2 hours later her room still smells like a dumpster fire,” Jesse posted from the disaster zone, as he waited for his wife to arrive.

“Alessandra is my favorite daughter but my 2nd favorite kid right now,” Jesse admitted as he signed off his update. We can’t say we approve, but we 1000 percent understand.


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