Well it’s Wednesday so I guess it’s time for another poop story. (Seriously people it’s ridiculous how much of my life involves poop in some form of another.)
About a week ago I trudged through my Mom’s muddy yard in the dark while carrying the twins in their car seats. I wasn’t looking at my feet. All I wanted to do was get in the door so I could set my heavy babies down. In my rush I felt my shoe sink a bit deeper that I expected but I chalked it up to a wet yard.
As my Mom and Bonus Dad unbuckled the girls I walked around the living room and kitchen putting away some of the items that we’d brought and searching for food. (I don’t think I’ll ever be too old to go digging around for food as soon as I get to my Mom’s house.) Once I’d finished I sat down on the couch and started playing with the babies and talking.
It wasn’t long before the smell reached my nose. I, of course started sniffing baby booties looking for the source. I started walking around the kitchen and living room to see if maybe one of the dogs had pooped. My Grandmother pointed out the source of the problem. Well there was poop, and is was a dog’s, but it wasn’t from our dog and I was the one who’d brought it inside. The bottom of my boot was poo brown. There were spots all over the floor. The color kept it camouflaged but there was no hiding that smell.
I’d tracked poop everywhere! Through the living room, around the table, around the chair, into the kitchen, and on the welcome mat. I cleaned it up and we laughed about it. It seems someone in the neighborhood has been letting their dog poop in my. Mom’s yard.
The next night my Husband and I visited again. As we left the neighborhood I noticed the Hubs put his hazards on and pull over on the side of the road. As I pulled behind him and watched him get out of the car and walk to the passenger side. I groaned expecting a flat tire. My groan turned into a cackle of laughter as I watched him start dragging his foot over the grass. He walked over to my window and found me practically in tears from laughter. I’d forgotten to tell him about the poop I’d stepped in the night before. Apparently he’d also chalked the squishy ground up to a wet yard until he got into his vehicle and the smell hit his nose.
There are two morals to the story here folks. 1) Always watch where you’re going, you never know when you might step in someone else’s crap. 2) If you must go through shit, do it with your family. It will smell just as bad but it’s a hell of a lot funnier.
Mom Van Confessions 