Pristine: “There’s poo on the floor!! There’s poo on the floor!!”
My mom and I dropped everything we were holding, paused whatever we were doing and rushed to the living room where the scream came from. Poo!? Pristine had been out of diaper (and of course toilet trained, she’s almost seven) a long time ago…like, dinosaur-wiped-out-of-the-face-of-the-Earth long time ago. So whose poo is it?
Certainly not mine. Nor the hamster’s!
Examining the suspicious looking thing, about the size of an almond:
Me: “How can you be sure it’s poo?”
Pristine: “Believe me it IS poo!! I smelled it!!”
Me: “You, SMELLED it!? How can you smell it! Ugh!!”
Pristine: “I had to be sure so you’ll believe me. And it’s NOT mine! My poo doesn’t smell like THAT!”
Then we remembered that my mother was babysitting a 4 year old boy who could be leaking something out of his diaper that afternoon. I mean, who else could it be!? Pristine already said it was not hers.
Hmmm, I almost got through Monday without writing a blog post. But then here I am writing about poo.