Dinner Deuce

My youngest daughter has an amazing ability to make her colon need to release its contents at the EXACT moment her dinner is placed in front of her. She is David Copperfield and her ass is a top hat with a rabbit-shaped turd waiting to pop out. It really is a nuisance.

Normally at home pooping at dinner isn't a big deal. She excuses herself and takes care of business, washes her hands, and returns to a now colder plate of food than when she left. I used to think she was only faking me out because she was disinterested in what was on the menu. But if you know my daughter, she will pretty much eat anything. So that assumption went down the shitter, so to speak. But when we are at a restaurant it presents a more precarious problem. If we are dining without my husband, I have to either take both kids with me to the crapper or leave my 9 year-old to fend for herself. I fear that if the whole table departs, our waiter might think we bolted. But with my slightly spastic eldest alone, she might start having a fake seizure while we are gone.

If I make the trip with her, I get to stand and listen to commentary as she goes.
"Mom, I've got to drop some major deuces." Time passes and there's activity in the can. I get to listen to it all. Oh joy.
"Mom, I'm dropping at least 6 or 7 kids off at the pool." Where is the damn air freshener?
She wipes and then I sometimes get the, "Mom, is my crack clean?" complete with a bent over booty shot. Priceless. I am no longer asked to wipe which is a major hurdle. I not an ass wiper nor an ass kisser.
She FINALLY pulls up her skirt and heads to the sink. If she thinks I'm not watching she will avoid the soap and just play in the faucet for a good 5 minutes. When she is forced to use soap, she screws around for a long-ass time and splashes water all over the counter and her front. She uses no less that 4 pieces of paper towel despite my warning that she doesn't need it and she's wasting paper. Like she cares.

After perhaps 10-15 minutes we FINALLY return to the table. Sophie has made origami animals from napkins and I'm pretty sure she has emptied my wallet. She might have ordered drinks for the table next to us, I'm not sure. The woman who enters the john after us of course assumes I am the guilty party depositing the shit stank that lingers like B.O. in a hot cab ride. Our ice is fully melted in our drinks, there are flies landing on our plates, and the waiter is now a waitress because in all this time they changed shifts. The craziest fucking part of her dookie disorder? She can sometimes hit the can MORE THAN ONCE in a meal. Insane. I need to locate some pocket-size Glade "Shit-Be-Gone" Odor Eraser. What a crock of shit...