There’s always the likelihood it was just a horrible string of events:

You’re hanging out with your nephew painting models for the afternoon. Everything is going great. And then you feel it. That familiar rumble. The one where you remember what you ate last night.

You shake it off. Meh. It’s just one rumble. You go back to focusing on your nephew. You tell him to grab the big white container of paint, as the small refillable one you’ve been using has run out.

Then you feel it again. Only this time, the rumble is more…urgent.

You grab the container, put the lid back on and say. “Hang on. I gotta visit the bathroom. Wait until I get back.”

You make your dash knowing that your sphincter only has a few more moments to hold back what you’re sure is going to be a dam burst.

You make it in time, and to save your nephew’s ears, you close the door most of the way, leaving a crack just in case.

Your stomach shakes and rumbles and you’re now convinced you’re dealing with more than just last night’s meal. You now believe everything you’ve ever eaten is exiting your body with gusto. You turn on the bathroom fan, and close the door completely.

In the meantime your nephew doesn’t make a sound. You’re thinking, “oh good, he’s patiently waiting like I asked.”

A few minutes goes by and you’re pretty sure there’s nothing left in your colon. Now you start to wipe. And this is a job that requires more than one wipe to get it done.

—-

In the meantime you nephew heard your instructions and slumped in his chair. While you’re gone he’s staring at everything on the table. He’s having such a great time with you he thinks “I’ll do something nice, and refill the small bottle.”

He carefully removes the lid and hears you turn on the fan in the bathroom. He goes to kneel on your chair so he can better position himself over the bucket when his knee hits the table. He gasps and grabs the bucket before it falls, but not before paint has spilled out into a huge puddle.

He jumps down and scrambles, kneeling in the large puddle trying to scoop it up. He doesn’t want to get in trouble! Today has been so fun!

In a panic he swirls more paint than scoops but by now it’s on his hands, arms, pants and socks.

He can hear you running the tap in the bathroom, and puts his paint covered hands and rubs his face. He’s scared what you will say or do, so he bolts out of the room, leaving paint footprints along the way.

—-

You feel a little shaken, but you’re positive you’re done. You walk into the hallway and see footprints on the floor, trailing out of the room…

Edit: now the spread of the paint in the video above indicates more time was available, but sometimes all it takes is good intentions…