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Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Little Helper

It was quiet in the backyard so I went out to check where my son was hiding. He had maybe been out riding his bike for two to three minutes in the backyard and now he was nowhere in sight. I called his name and he yelled, "Over here mommy in the poop". That is where the trouble began.

My son stood in our dog run or should I say, poop run. I had purchased the day before a pooper scooper to pick up the dog run so the dogs would stop eating their poop. If nothing is there then it's harder to get, right? Well, my son thought that he would help me out by going out to pick up the fresh poop himself. He had the scooper in hand but instead of scooping it with the shovel into the scooper, he was picking it up with his hand and placing it on the scooper. I wanted to cry and especially because I had no shoes on and knew that I would have to run inside for a minute to get my shoes on before attempting to step into the dog run. I screamed for him to come here and he yelled back, "No Mommy, I need to get the poop". He picked up another one and put it on the scooper and wiped his hands on his shirt. He then yelled out to me, "Mommy, I have poopie on my shoes". I screamed, "COME HERE". He just kept on picking up the poop. I made a run for the house and grabbed my thongs. I ran to the yard picked him up and he managed to smear his freshly covered poopie shoes all over my leg. I screamed again! This can't be happening...everyday it seems like I'm dealing with poop. We ran inside, threw off the shoes and ran for the bathtub. The entire time my son is touching me with his poop covered hands and I'm gagging from the smell.

Another day in paradise as my son and I soak away the poop in a fresh bubble bath. My husband walks in from work about that time and asks the famous question, "How was your guys day?" If he only knew!

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