Does a toddler shit in the woods?

YES! This morning we met Miss Avery, Megan, and Turtle at Tryon Creek for a toddler hike. It's important to distinguish a toddler hike from a regular hike because they aren't the same. At all. A toddler hike takes nearly three times as long to complete and means you'll spend countless minutes every third step looking at leaves, throwing rocks (small ones), hiding, running back and forth across bridges, waving sticks in the air, and stopping to check out spiders, moss, mud, dirt, trees, fallen logs, flowers, and an assortment of nature's trail best. It's exhausting.

Which brings me to the moment when one Huck Finn decided, around the halfway point in the hike, that he needed to go potty. The last time this happened we were able to scoop up the kids and haul balls to the nearest business with bathrooms. That, however, was not an option for us this time.

Hen: Mama, I gotta potty.

Me, throwing out an idea that is sure to be met with scorn: Um, want to try going potty standing up like the boy in the book?

Hen, thinking: Yeah.

Me, WTF? Seriously? He said yes?: Okay!

You'd be amazed how fast you can scout out an acceptable outdoor peeing location, gather your toddler, pull down toddler's pants, and help aim (yes, help aim) when your kid tells you he has to go, particularly when you no longer have a wardrobe change that you carry around with you in case of accidents.

The first attempt was a bit of a mis-dribble. It's not like I have a twig of my own and know how to aim. The trajectory of boy pee is completely foreign to me. And then Bean turns to me and says, "I gotta poop."

Oh. Shit.

Poop is a whole other ball of wax.

Me, because, hey, he went for it the first time: Want to go poop outside?

<Hen mulls this over. I wonder if toddlers are like animals and can sense parental desperation.>

Hen: Yeah.

Me: Okay!

There's a log right by our location of pee attempt #1. I scoop up Bean, hold him in a way that I hope is going-poop friendly, and send up a silent prayer to the gods. And it works.

Bless her, Megan is over there silently cheering us on because as a mom she knows how awful this scenario could turn out if we can't get Hen to do his business when he really needs to go. And she's aware that any noise could distract the little man and leave him unable to complete the task. Since she had brought Turtle, she had an interesting poop scooping bag device, so I cleaned up the waste and we hiked our way out, eventually.

So, in conclusion, today a toddler shat in the woods.