I took the kids over to a friend's apartment complex this afternoon so they could help put up flyers for her lost cat. She has arthritis and wanted someone to help her run flyers up to the top floor so that she didn't have to. It was quite a lot of stair climbing for my little brood (and thank goodness, too, because they needed a good tuckering out).
At one point Benjamin and Zoë went scampering up a little hill and Alexander wanted me to put him down so he could follow them, so I did. He romped up the hill with them and then ran back to me. I scooped him up and caught a whiff of fecal matter in the air.
"Did you poop in your pants?!" I asked.
"No!" he said.
I verified and this was true. He had not pooped in his pants.
So we continued on our way, posting flyers here and there, and always with the lingering smell of fecal matter following us around.
"Are you sure you didn't poop?" I asked. "Do you need to go poopies?"
No and no, he insisted.
I decided to put him down on the ground this time in order to take a better gander in his pants (the first time I had him in my arms and took just a quick peek). When I put him down I noticed that I had mud all over my clothes from him kicking me with his shoes as I carted him around. It was smeared all over my pants, all over my shirt, all over my sweater...
Wait a minute, I thought. That's not mud!
Indeed, it was not.
He had been kicking me all over with his dirty shoes but he had not stepped in mud. He had stepped in doggy doo-doo...which was now all over me.
I carefully wrenched his shoe from his foot and wiped off as much of the remaining doggy doo-doo into the grass as I could but he and I were a hopeless, stinky mess (he less so than I). We continued to perfume the air around us while we worked, which I'm sure everyone appreciated.
When we got home I had Miriam give him a bath while I freshened up myself.
His shoes are still sitting on the front porch. I'll get to them eventually...
(As Andrew pointed out to me: it could have been worse).
At one point Benjamin and Zoë went scampering up a little hill and Alexander wanted me to put him down so he could follow them, so I did. He romped up the hill with them and then ran back to me. I scooped him up and caught a whiff of fecal matter in the air.
"Did you poop in your pants?!" I asked.
"No!" he said.
I verified and this was true. He had not pooped in his pants.
So we continued on our way, posting flyers here and there, and always with the lingering smell of fecal matter following us around.
"Are you sure you didn't poop?" I asked. "Do you need to go poopies?"
No and no, he insisted.
I decided to put him down on the ground this time in order to take a better gander in his pants (the first time I had him in my arms and took just a quick peek). When I put him down I noticed that I had mud all over my clothes from him kicking me with his shoes as I carted him around. It was smeared all over my pants, all over my shirt, all over my sweater...
Wait a minute, I thought. That's not mud!
Indeed, it was not.
He had been kicking me all over with his dirty shoes but he had not stepped in mud. He had stepped in doggy doo-doo...which was now all over me.
I carefully wrenched his shoe from his foot and wiped off as much of the remaining doggy doo-doo into the grass as I could but he and I were a hopeless, stinky mess (he less so than I). We continued to perfume the air around us while we worked, which I'm sure everyone appreciated.
When we got home I had Miriam give him a bath while I freshened up myself.
His shoes are still sitting on the front porch. I'll get to them eventually...
(As Andrew pointed out to me: it could have been worse).
Thanks for the chuckle...and then the full on laughing when I re-read Andrew's poop time adventures.
ReplyDeleteYes, he could have rolled in it like someone I know....
ReplyDelete