Entry 12: Rusty Goes Sledding

The annual snow trip is fun because the general public gets to see for themselves just how group home kids like Rusty can act. He has many peculiarities, one being that he constantly shits his pants, yet he won't ever admit it even with incontrovertible evidence, e.g. shit in his pants while they are on him.

The mountains where we go sledding are a 2 hour van drive away. The kids file out, get a snow saucer and slide down the hill with limited success. During one of Rusty's runs, I saw what appeared to be two little rocks trailing after him in the snow. Further inspection proved that it was two little frozen shit balls. I asked Rusty if he had had an accident and he yelled, "You can't prove it's mine, bitch!"

The van ride home was a nightmare. Rusty sitting in more shit, stinking up the place so much that the other kids want to kill him, and he's just sitting there innocently denying the whole thing. We pulled into a rest stop to clean him up. I told him to go into a bathroom stall and take a dump to get the rest out. He goes in there, I hear the toilet flush and then see shit-water overflowing all over the place.

Me: Jesus Rusty, what'd you do?

Rusty: Nothing. I was just standing there and my underwear fell in and I flushed the toilet before I could see it.

Entry 1: Chris's Poop Problems

Chris (11) has a hard time reconciling the fact that everyone must poop, no matter how mad they are at their dead mom.

For a long time he simply refused to go. Apparently, for him poop is anger. If you just hold it in forever you never have to experience it or admit it. His approach to defecation blocked up his intestines until he was put on laxatives so he would be forced to make regular movements and prevent major injury to his insides.

The medicine is very effective, so much so that now making poop isn't the problem; now the issue is making the poop in the actual potty.
Chris shits his pants on a regular basis, and tries to hide this fact by eliminating the evidence, like his soiled underwear. He feigns surprise every time he is discovered to have shitty pants, as if an unidentified evil entity were framing him and conspiring to blame everything that is fecal on him.

One time we were trying to figure out what was the matter with the overhead vent fan in the bathroom, as it had stopped working. My teammate got up on the toilet to open the vent and peer inside. When he did this, a dozen pair of shitty underwear came tumbling out onto my teammate's head. They were Chris's. He tried to deny this, even though they had his name on them.

Another time Chris told me he had run out of underwear. This is an immediate red flag. Upon a thorough search, we discovered that he had somehow burrowed through the wall under his sink and crammed 15 pair of shitty underwear into it. As well as one soiled sock.

Chris is completely in denial that there might be something wrong with this picture. Some of my favorite Chris-isms:

"That's not poop, that's just a stain."

"Somebody did that to my underwear, I think my roommate"

Me: "Chris, did you make poop?"
Chris: "Yeah. No. I don't know."