We watched a dolphin show, and touched stingrays (which is when I almost fell into the water, because I wasn't expecting the thing to have ridges on its back) and watched the various sea life they have on display.
We were in the underwater dolphin tank theater, when I thought I noticed an odd smell. There were several dozen people in there, so really it could have been any one of them. Unfortunately, it was an oddly familiar smell. It just kept wafting over me, until it stopped wafting, and started beating against my nostrils. I looked around, and there was Cullen. Yep. He was the source of the foul odor. So I grabbed him up and went to the nearest bathroom, which happened to be an open air (which is a fancy-shmancy word for no air-conditioning) facility.
I laid him on the Koala Bear changing table, and slowly, cautiously, removed his shoes and shorts. I had a bad feeling about this one. As I peeled his (new) shorts down his legs, I noticed rings along the inside of his shorts. Great. So, I cleaned him off as best I could (which was nowhere near good enough) then took off the rest of his clothes, and plopped his naked butt in a sink and ran soap and cold water over him. I proceeded to wash his shorts in the next sink. Thank God we were the only ones in there. Of course, given the smell that kid produced, I'm sure the odds of anyone actually deciding to investigate were pretty slim.
So after several minutes of washing his shorts, I was faced with a new dilemma. Do I take him back to the dophin tank where his diaper bag and extra clothes are (I only brought the wipes and a diaper with me. Duh.), or do I try to dry his shorts at the hand dryer?
I opted for the hand dryer.
Which meant I had to stand there and hold his shorts in front of 193 degree air blowing more at me than at the shorts, and try to convince him to stay seated in the sink.
Once his shorts were dry, and he was cleaned and fully clothed, I realized "The Smell" was still with us. So I started frantically trying to figure out why. Joy of joys, there was a little smudge on my shirt (!) from where I held him on my hip on the trip to the bathroom.
So yes, I had to wash my shirt in the sink, and then stand there (again, the open air facility) while 347 degree air blew against me to dry it. I was a beautiful, dewy, yummy-smelling delight after that, let me tell you.
And can I just say, not once in the half-hour we were gone, did Hubs come looking to see if something were wrong? He knew.
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It kind of reminded me of this: