Time-out for Poop?

Wayne and I have been playing ultimate frisbee for most of our married life. It's a great way to get exercise, be outdoors, meet new people and spend some quality time together. It's also the one time we are allowed to yell at each other, so long as it's not about the dirty socks on the floor or the lack of help in the area of household chores. There was a time when we used to play three times a week, and drive all over the GTA to get to a game. Now, we're restricted to one night and the fields a very short distance from home.
Which is great because we always bring the kids with us. They've been coming out to the frisbee games since they were 2 weeks old. Yep - I was that crazy woman on the field two weeks after popping out a kid.
We've always had great teammates who took turns rocking a screaming infant or keeping an eye on wayward toddlers. These days, our teammates also have little ones. I remember one game where there were three female teammates, all nursing our babies on the field during half-time. It's like a daycare on the sidelines, or an exuberant cheering section. In a few years, they'll be tall enough to be our subs. Devlin's already learning how to throw the disc.
That's one of the reasons we keep playing frisbee. It's a chance for our kids to get unstructured play time - running around on the grass, or kicking a soccer ball with a playmate, or hanging out at the park. Even when it's pouring rain, the children are the ones having the most fun splashing around while the adults are grumbling while slipping and sliding across the field.
Having kids out at the game is great, but it's also not without complications. If there aren't enough players for subs, there's no one to keep an eye on the kids. There have been games where one of us have run off the field, mid-play, to chase after a child. Or run onto the field to catch Aisling as she ran after me. There's always one kid asking for a snack. Oh yes, the ever present snack bag is another reason why our kids love frisbee nights. Juice boxes, crackers, cookies, fruit. Although, more often than not, fruit is not the first choice. On the rare occasion, there's a disagreement amongst the playmates that has to be sorted out by an adult. Or a minor injury.
And then there's the "I hafta pee" cry from the sidelines. My one complaint about ultimate frisbee is the lack of bathroom facilities at the fields. There's also no time-outs for bathroom breaks. I've already checked the rules and regulations. Especially since Devlin isn't technically a member of the team.
There have been many games where we've yelled, mid-play, "pee on the grass!" The next time we glance over at the fields, there's Devlin, pants down by his ankles with his little bum towards us. At least, he's got modesty.
Two weeks ago, we had the unexpected. " I hafta poo!" he cried. There's still 20 minutes left in the game. "Can you hold it?"
"No! It's coming right now!"
Wayne and I looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders, and then looked around.
"See those trees? Go over there. Take the diaper wipes and go!"
Off he went, scampering along to the trees.

After the game, Wayne got dispatched to pick up the poop for the garbage. Devlin was quite proud of his deposit as he pointed out where he had gone.

This week, we decided to bring a plastic bag just in case. Good thing. It was required again. For the same child.  Should I bring a portable potty next time?