What do you do?

So potty training is God's way of showing just how little control I have in life and His method of slowly torturing me to death. Trenton is finally in the process of actually getting potty trained. He is actually doing pretty good, but he is struggling with asking to go and what to do when he has to drop a twosy. So yesterday we had a clash of both problems that resulted in pure terror. We put Trenton down for a nap in a diaper since we didn't want him peeing in his underwears while sleeping. Well thirty minutes into his nap he has to go to the bathroom but you can probably guess it was the colon calling not his bladder. So he goes poop. Well that wouldn't be bad except that he now knows that he doesn't like the feeling of poop or pee in a diaper against his skin. So what does he do? He immediately takes off his shorts and removes his diaper. Now any rational human being (or perhaps any rational non-Anderson kid) would have stopped there. But not my boy! He proceeds to pick up the poop and put it everywhere in his room. His bed was smeared with it. The carpet was covered with it. Inside his pillow case had poop. His blanket had poop. The only thing that didn't really suffer was his stuffed animal penguin. Go figure he spares his best friend. We hear him and start to smell the funk so we enter his room to find Picasso has painted a nice brown shade everywhere. He is naked and covered in poop from his neck to his feet. His hands are coated. And on the back of his bedroom door is a nice little painting of poop. What do you do when the crap hits the fan they say? Well what do you do when the crap hits everything? We didn't know whether to laugh or cry, scream or giggle, clean or napalm the room. It is always an adventure in this home and yesterday proved no different. For your viewing pleasure I have included a picture of his door (which I couldn't help but take).