Everybody Poops....

We made a trip to one of my favorite places today; The Dollar Tree. I told the kids they each got a dollar, and as always they had a fantastic time rummaging through all the toys until they found just the right treasure. I stocked up on sidewalk chalk and looked at a few things for Little Lady's upcoming birthday. Pretty standard Dollar Tree visit.
Until we went to pay. I knew Little Miss had a dirty diaper,but I guess I underestimated the ability of one little butt. We put our stuff on the checkout counter and I pick my little princess up only to find my arm, from wrist to elbow, covered in poop. And Little Lady has managed to get her hand and arm in it, too. And back. And all of her clothes. Wonderful.
So I ask in my most urgent, I'm-covered-in-excrement voice where I can find a bathroom. Apparently the lady at the register didn't see the importance of my predicament, because rather than pointing me to the nearest restroom, she tells me my total. Really? Last thing on my mind.
 "I don't think I'll be paying just yet, cause I'm covered in crap. Where is the bathroom?" I say in the nicest tone one can muster when covered in poo and trying to keep feces covered toddler hands from touching anything.
I understand that many places don't have public restrooms.  Get it.  But serious times call for exceptions. To me, runaway poop is serious.  I'm imagining myself in the cashier's position, and I like to think that I would have been like, "Right this way!" and led me and my stinky posse to a place we could wash up. But my imagination rarely mirrors real life and other people seldom do the things I believe they should.  So instead she takes what seems like five minutes to get permission from her manager for us to use the restroom. And then gives us a vague description of its locale.
Okay, fine. Away we go, with my son walking at what seems to be the slowest speed possible and stopping to look at everything shiny along the way.
Deep breaths.
Fortunately, I had a diaper and a changing pad in my purse. Unfortunately, no wipes.  We weren't planning on being away more than 30 minutes and we certainly weren't prepared for an explosion of epic proportions.   We make do with wet paper towels.
Finally, we exit the bathroom. One frazzled mom with an armful of soiled clothes, one preschooler who doesn't seem to realize how epic this whole scene just was (he's more concerned about the toy he had to leave at the register), and a toddler wearing nothing but a diaper.
We pay. The cashier offers to put the cart away, which I find slightly redeeming, and we get out of there as fast as possible.
What a crappy trip that turned out to be. HarHar.