Potty Training Heroine

At my house we are well acquainted with the human ability to rid the body of it's own waste.
I am very familiar with my children's ability to do this. One in a diaper and one in the toilet. Sometimes. When I set out on this venture I never realized how nonchalant I would become about the whole matter.

My son just peed on the floor in the grocery store?
"—Clean up on aisle two!"
I am wearing poop?
"—Do you have a wet-one? Oh, never mind, here's a napkin."
My son just pooped his pants, at the library, and it's everywhere?
—"Define everywhere. Can I throw his underpants away and just let him wear his pants? Yep. Good. Story time!"
My daughter is covered in poop?
—"Oh, don't worry, I brought a change of clothes. For everyone."

This sort of thing really, really used to gross me out. This and vomit.
Now I have a toddler and a 6 month old.

I am no longer afraid.

These days, as I walk the halls of potty training adventure I carry the tools of my trade, ready to wield them should the armies of darkness show their ugly heads.

You can do almost anything with a roll of toilet paper, hand soap, and a public hand-blowdryer.

Bring it on.