Magazine

Waste Management

So I'm at a museum with the three year old.

Suddenly I smell it...and say, "Do you need to go to the toilet?"

He responds by smiling up at me and says "Done it!"

I freak and march him straight to the loo.

To my confusion, there's a stripe of brown down one leg but the actual thing is nowhere to be seen. As I'm cleaning him up, I realise with growing horror that, minus underpants, the offending item has slipped out of his shorts and is now residing somewhere in the museum.

Thus ensues the hunt, much to his delight, shouting "let's go find my poo mummy!"

I get to the main corridor of one of Norway's most prolific Viking museums...and there it is, in all it's glory, right in the middle of the main corridor. Exhibit P from the Toddler Era.

Three perplexed cleaners are standing around it discussing where it could have come from and which one of them is going to clean it up.

I muster up all my confidence, stick my shoulders back, storm into the middle of them and with a charming smile pick it up with the loo roll in my hand and say, "Thank you. That's mine," and walk off with my head held high.

Oh my. I may never recover from this! Where's the gin?!

Mairi McHaffie