Poopoo and Peepee

Become a parent means losing all inhibitions about bodily functions. It also means having more conversations about bodily functions than you ever want to have. You have to have strategy sessions with your spouse over what to call the toilet, the urine, and the feces. What is not okay to call it?
All these and more have to be discussed and re-discussed when you are a parent.
If it's not hard changing diapers that get pooped in seemingly every half hour, it's harder to change underwear that gets pooped in. This requires other limitless conversations. To wash or to toss?
Several months ago Adam and I felt Paul was ready for underwear. He was using the toilet with success and we hoped that underwear would be a successful venture as well. We went to Wal-Mart and bought the cutest Sesame Street underwear you've ever seen. I had a long talk with Paul about how Big Bird doesn't like poo poo or pee pee on him, so Paul must use the potty. We were doing pretty well, until one day he pooped on the floor three times. Before I knew it, Claire had stepped in it and I had to scrub footprints and hand prints off the floors and walls. I was so frustrated that I put him back in diapers.
Since then, we've been occasionally throwing underwear on him, but yesterday we were going to be home all day, so we decided to go all the way again, and hopefully for the last time. He had three accidents before lunch, including one major mess. The thing I hate about it is that you have to get way more personal with poop in underwear than you do in the diapers. Diapers involve indirectness, but with underwear, there is little chance you are not going to end up with fecal matter on your hands.
We had a little girl over, too, and she ended up having an accidental poo about 15 minutes after Paul's. Then the dog escaped to the neighbor's front yard to let loose. Yesterday, I really was grateful for those in the house whom I don't have to clean up after.
Today we bravely left the house in underwear. Five minutes after we entered Half Price Books, Paul had wet himself. Off to the bathroom for cleaning.
Then we went downtown. We were at the trolley stand waiting and Paul told me he had to go potty. He proceeded to rain a puddle on a sidewalk in downtown Fort Worth. This time there wasn't a potty to whisk him off to for cleaning. We had to do it right there on the sidewalk.
But that wasn't the supreme violation of potty etiquette. Because it started raining, we decided to explore downtown indoors. I took the kids to some of the skyscrapers that have indoor pedestrian bridges. We were looking out at the downtown skyline when two businessmen informed me that my son was peeing into the air conditioning vent. I was trapped. I didn't want to cart him somewhere else, dripping his way through the City Club. I had to change him right there. So yes, today I stood above Calhoun street taking my son's clothes off for all to see. I said a silent prayer of thanks that he didn't stain any carpet and hope for quick evaporation.
Next stop: Costco. I hope to only have to change him once in there.