It was the kind of afternoon that, if I read about in a novel, I would be unable to maintain my suspension of disbelief.
I've been supervising Middle very closely in the bathroom this week. After a bowel movement, I cleaned him up and then he wanted to take a shower. So I started the shower and let him in for a while. Eventually he came out and went into his room.
A little later he comes out of his room. He has two big smears of poop on his shirt, and poop all over the left side of his face. I pull him over to the sink, soap up a paper towel and start cleaning his face. Middle doesn't like to have his face or head touched. He starts pushing and trying to wiggle away from me. I pin him against the kitchen counter. He jerks loose and crashes into the back door. He hit it hard enough to break the glass in the window. So now there is broken glass all over the place. My Beloved Fiancee comes running. She and Younger Daughter start cleaning up the glass. I keep the dogs and Youngest Son out of the kitchen. And keep working to clean Middle Son's face. He resists and resists. I keep doing him that we are going to do this. Eventually he takes the paper towel from me and cleans his own face.
I was mystified as to how he got poop on his shirt and face. I know he was clean when he went in the room. We went into his room to get some clean clothes. While he was changing his pants, he reaches around and digs into his crack with his finger. Aha. Now I know how he got dirty.
What I don't know is how I'm going to stop him from wiping himself with his own hands.