A Smelly Situation

I don't like to think of myself as one who finds enjoyment in another's suffering, but I found myself laughing at a man's discomfort the other night.

We were at my granddaughter's soccer game, played indoors. The parents all sit along one side of the gym to watch. As is usual for this kind of thing, the siblings of the child playing come along, though their interest in the game is minimal.

I was there with my son and his wife, and beside my son sat a friend of his whose daughter played for the opposing team. The guys were talking and they got a little noisy, and I wondered what was going on.

There were a couple of kids running up the sidelines, chasing each other. They dropped to the floor and the bigger boy grabbed the little one, about 2 or 3 years of age, and dragged him by the foot past us.

There was an immediate affect to my son's friend. He was turning away, holding his hands over his face, gagging. What was going on, I wondered.

And then I knew, as I too caught the whiff of a diaper load of poop. Stink? It was terrible.

Between bouts of gagging the other man asked the group, "Where are his parents? Why don't they do something about this?"

I couldn't help but laugh, the poor man was really suffering. He commented that in order to change his daughter's diapers when she was little he had to mask his face to get through it.

I swear the poopy kid had a sixth sense about this man as he seemed to stop and stare every time he passed.

I know it wasn't nice, but I laughed so hard my face hurt. The game finally ended and the man shot out of the gym. Dad points for staying for the whole game first.

Oh, those were the days. Gone but not forgotten.