I promised to declare a winner today for our grossest kid’s story contest, and I must say the competition was stomach-turning. If you have already finished your lunch, you can read all the submissions here. Everyone who entered has earned their parenting merit badge in eww-nasty-sicko.

The grand prize winner was chosen for the sheer magnitude of the mess described in all too vivid detail. Wendy, the author of this post, should email me her mailing address at asultan@post-dispatch.com, and I will send you the Flim-Flam Fairies book. Lord knows, you’ve earned it. Read at your own risk. Here is the winning entry:

The timing of this is perfect, since my story took place just this past weekend. And I hope no one out there is offended by the word “poop.”

It is a poop that will live in infamy. A poop heard round the world.

I think from now on, I will simply refer to it as “The Poop,” for any poops henceforth will simply be compared to The Poop, and found wanting.

We duct tape our 2-year-old daughter into her pull-up at naptime and bedtime. It is colorful duct tape (purple this week), and it is supposed to prevent her from stripping mid-nap. Weeks ago, we found that she would pull off her pull-up, and then pee in her bed. The duct tape has worked wonderfully, in keeping her sheets clean (are you getting the foreshadowing here?).

The girl does not like to sleep with a poopy diaper (who would?), and will fuss if she happens to poop after she’s been put to bed. It is a rare occurrence, but it does happen now and then.

Saturday, she went down for her normal nap. A bit earlier than normal, but close to her regular time. She did not fuss. No whining, no crying, no playing - from what we could tell, she went to sleep.

About an hour and a half later, I am in the hallway outside her room. And I can smell it. She had managed to poop, and my guess was, leak out of her pull-up. There’s no way I’d be able to smell it had it happened IN her pull-up.

I warn my husband that we may have a “poop issue” with which to deal, and I head in. The smell knocks me back a few steps the minute I open the door. Based on this alone, I raise the alarm, “Honey, I may need some help with this one…”

Our daughter is OUT. Asleep, breathing heavy, her face buried in her pillow. Completely oblivious to the carnage around her.

I take a deep breath, and move in closer.

Dear Lord Almighty, it is EVERYWHERE.

Everywhere, that is, except her pull-up. BEFORE she fell asleep, she managed to get through the duct tape, and peel off the pull-up. It was tossed into the far end of her crib - dry as when she put it on. Untouched.

As I get closer, I can see what seems to have gone on. There was poop. And then there was PLAYING WITH THE POOP. She had a small pink plastic bowl in her crib - which now had small handfuls of poop. The only way it could have gotten there, is if she had picked it up and put it there.

Its ground into her sheets.

Its on her pillow slip. Oh my goodness, its on her pillow slip.

“Honey, its time to wake up…”

“Sweetheart?!? I am going to need some help RIGHT. NOW. Its BAD.”

Head to toe. In her hair, crusted (CRUSTED!) into her eyebrows. Arms, hands, legs, feet. COVERED.

The smell is enough to make me gag. The idea of poop ON HER FACE? I wanted to cry. She had gotten it on her pillow slip, then buried her face into her pillow to sleep.

My husband rushed in, and carried her (holding her at arm’s length away) straight to the tub. He took over pulling off the sheets, while I went to work hosing her off. Thank goodness for the hand-held shower head.

I must have washed her 4 times. Under her finger nails. Between her toes. Even the laundry I washed in hot water, twice.

My only regret from The Poop? I was so taken by surprise, I didn’t get a single picture of the mess.