My friends Doug and Lisa both turned 30 this summer and for a gift I told them I would watch their kids one night so they could go out. So a few Tuesday nights ago I watched their two little boys Joel and Jared. Jared is about 20 months old and is not crazy about strangers. Lisa had prepared the boys that Mom and Dad were going to the Temple and Sister Patton was going to watch them. So Jared had been saying, "Mom. Dad. Patton. Mom. Dad. Patton." When I got there Jared was still awake but Lisa put him in bed before they left. He was a little bit fussy which was fine but after about 10 minutes he was crying louder and I decided I better go into his room to comfort him though I was worried that he might freak out that I was there and not his mom. I opened the room and immediately got a whiff of poop. When I turned on the light Jared was waving his arms and crying and his hands were covered in poop. I looked around and saw a few balls of poop that he had been molding and he had even pulled down the pants on a stuffed bear and put a ball of poop right where it belonged! Clever kid. I quickly turned Jared around and picked him up -- holding him at arms length from me and went right to the bathtub. He screamed until I got the bubbles. Then he calmed down and I cleaned him up (it was even in his finger nails). When Jared was re-diapered and re-pajamed, we went on a little walk and then both boys went to bed. Before Doug and Lisa left I had told them a funny babysitting story so when they got home I said, "Have I got a story for you!" and recounted the evening's events. Lisa asked why I didn't call them. I assured her that I was fine taking care of things. [I babysat my next door neighbor when I was 12 and he barfed and I frantically called my mom who came right over and cleaned things up for me. No Nan to the rescue this time.] I saw Lisa a few days later and she said when Jared woke up the next morning he told them what had happened: "Poop. Bubbles. Walk. Patton. Poop. Bubbles. Walk. Patton."