I Poopied!!!

Yesterday, Otter took her first step down a road that can one day lead to wet t-shirt contests or, worse, MTV Spring Break exposes. That's right - she went to her first pool party. Donning her Elmo Splash Pants, pink swimsuit (the last one in her size on sale at Target) and enough sunblock to withstand a trip to the surface of the sun, she made her grand entrance.

For my part, I initially considered the modest Mom Suit - you know, the one that covers more flesh that it exposes. The Mom Suit has many pros. For one, this would be the proper thing for a lady in my position to wear. For another, without string ties, one of Otter's favorite playthings, a Mom Suit would certainly save me from unplanned wardrobe malfunctions, courtesy of SB. But when have details like unplanned exposed boobs at my nephew's 9th birthday party stopped me? So, with nary a concern that my zombie white ass would blind all those around me, I pulled out a bikini. Since Operation Fatten Up has yet to live up to it's full potential, I might as well take advantage.

Sucking in for all it's worth, I bravely entered a pool chock full of splashing, screaming pre-teen boys. Not quite what my pool parties used to be, to be certain. Otter looked skeptical. We stepped further in and she quickly decided that this had about as much to do with her bath, which she loves, as an ocean resembles a puddle. The face soured, the mouth turned down, and the baby began emitting whining noises. Still, since she wasn't crying outright, I persevered a bit longer. But, when it became apparent that SB preferred the feel of dry land under her feet, we decided to hit the food instead and tried pizza (approved), cupcakes (very approved) and ice cream (not so much).

And we left not a moment too soon. As Otter and I were stuffing our faces at the table, a wail went up from the pool. "I poopied! I poopied!" screamed one of the little party guests. And indeed, she had. Bree and I plastered overzealous smiles on our faces - the kind designed to not let the other party-goers know just how traumatized you are in that moment. Perhaps Miss Pool Poopie would have benefited from some Elmo Splash Pants herself...