July 24, 2009 "Costco, a Cell Phone & Poop"

"Why, I oughta...."

What do Costco, a cell phone, and poop have in common? Porter, that’s what, and this is how. A couple of weeks ago I stopped by Costco to grab a cute shirt and some beach towels. I still hadn’t replaced my Costco card (stolen along with my wallet) so I stopped by the counter to do so. As I was waiting for the card to process, Porter told me he had to use the bathroom. His actually words were something like, “I need to go poop.” I told him to go ahead and that I’d meet him there as soon as I got my card. The card took all of two minutes, so I grabbed it and started pushing the cart down to the bathrooms. Half way there I realized that I didn’t have my cell phone, so I turned around and went back to customer service. I asked them if they had seen a phone, but they hadn’t, and I thought, “Hmmm, maybe I didn’t bring it in.”

When I got down to the bathrooms, I heard Porter talking and quickly realized that he was talking to his best friend ON MY CELL PHONE! Men are entering and exiting the bathroom and I yell in there, “Porter, get out here right now!” and he replies, “I can’t! I’m pooping.” Me, “Hurry up and finish and GET OUT HERE!” My response was a very controlled yell. So I wait, as patiently as I can, until I hear him talking on the phone again, not to his friend, but to his dad. WHAT? He started another conversation?

Once again, I yell into the bathroom for him to get out here, which he does, and I realize it’s unfortunate that he has decided to listen to me. We had just come from a waterslide park so Porter was wearing his swim shorts, which have a drawstring that is tied tightly to keep his pants up. When Porter emerges from the bathroom, the pants are up in the front and down in the back because he couldn’t manage to get them all the way down in the first place, and now he can’t manage to pull them back up.
It might have been easier for him to pull them up if his hands weren’t full. In one hand is my cell phone, with Clint still on it, and in the other hand is a wad of toilet paper, soiled with poop. Yes, you read that right. So, as calmly as I could, I grabbed the phone, turned him around, and sent him back in the bathroom with strict instructions to WASH HIS HANDS. I had to tell my husband that I’d call him back, but didn’t explain why right then. I was more concerned with the poop smell that was coming from the phone.

I immediately went into the ladies restroom and cleaned my phone with soap and water, as delicately but as thoroughly as possible. I dried it off, headed out and met Porter coming out of the men’s restroom. I immediately grabbed his hands and gave them a sniff, clean, thank goodness. He asked me if I was mad. I told him we’d talk later. And we did. He hasn’t tried to “sneak” my phone since then so I assume that I made myself clear.