Piety in poop

Like it or not, blogs written by mamas always, inevitably, digress to bodily functions. And now, for the promised "moment of hilarity"...

Scene: busy Green Mill restaurant housed in small, historic St. Paul building.
Setting: bustling Sunday evening dinner crowd, mostly middle-upper class & middle aged.
Enter: busy family of 6 after long day in car. Toddler crying from upset stomach; infant teething; older children with proverbial "ants in their pants".
Synopsis: Crisis occurs half way through dinner, after two {harried} parents have spent 45 minutes distracting older children, singing inane nursery rhymes to toddler, and playing clapping games with infant. Father smells poop and immediately suspects infant. Notifies mother of his intent to go change infant in men's room. Mother [looking horrified] states that it may be better for her to change infant in women's room (as they are normally more well equipped for such things - not to mention more recently scrubbed!). Father begins rifling through overstuffed diaper bag for necessary equipment. Toddler stands up in highchair [looking horrified]. Father immediately motions frantically to mother to detain toddler. Mother misunderstands and tries to get toddler to sit back down. After brief, under-his-breath exchange with mother, father makes his point clear: toddler is covered - yes, covered! - in poop. Snowy white dress-up sweater, floral cordoroys and peach t-shirt - even socks. Mother scoops up toddler, trying to cover up poopy details with aforementioned white sweater so other patrons will not guess the purpose behind her sudden, high-speed flight to women's restroom with small child in tow. Upon realizing wet wipes are missing from aforementioned overstuffed diaper bag, mother spends 20 minutes extracting 6" segments of scratchy paper towels from the automated dispenser, while toddler attempts to smear poop all over restroom walls. After placing toddler in 5-point stance against stall wall, mother wets towels and begins her layer-at-a-time extraction of the toddler from poop-smeared garments. Briefly considers using abandoned snowy white fleece winter scarf that someone has left in the restroom as a make-do baby butt wipe [this was the low point] when toddler screams from scratched bottom. Thanks heaven and all that dwell in it that she remembered extra toddler outfit, and emerges from restroom with not a hair out of place and clean [moderately] toddler in tow. None of the patrons seem disturbed, nor has it apparently occurred to any of them to wonder why toddler took 20 minutes in restroom and emerged in new outfit.

This, my friends, is being saved through childbearing. For what other human would I drop my appealing dinner and run high-tail to the restroom to spend 20 minutes scrubbing dried on poop off of body and clothes, while placating, soothing, and singing to said poopy individual? God is teaching me piety in poop, serenity through sacrifice, love in laughter, joy on my knees in a cold, cramped bathroom as I laugh over the thought of using someone else's scarf on my child's poo-burnt bottom!