Leave it to me to start my very first blog entry of 2008 with poop. I feel so dooce. (scroll down, she's got a category just for poop.)
Nbear has started a spanish class and it's one of those classes that is 40 minutes long - which I'm sure is just perfect scholastically, but logistically, it's a bit of a pain. As in, it is not long enough for me to actually GO anywhere and do something, nor am I at leisure to pack a book to entertain myself in the car as I have a 2 year old kicking the back of my seat and hollering.
Luckily, there is a playground nearby. So with some relief I released N to his class and wound my way out of the labyrinth of a building to find the playground. I spotted something that resembled a bathroom, but J was fighting me to get outside to the playground. So about 5 minutes in, I'm the park mom totally on the phone when Jmonkey gets "the look" and "the pose." Of course I have left his spares in the car. So we must walk forever back to the car. He waddles and complains.
At the car, I remember (with a smack to my head) that I have no plastic bags and no fresh underwear (that's another story there, but much less interesting.) Alas. At the very least, I have wipes and some pants. But then I take off his pants and his underwear and I'm trying to locate the poop before it falls on a vital part of the car and I can't find it. I'm shaking things and shaking things and nada. I even bother to look in his shoes.
"J? Where did your poop go?"
"The sidewalk."
ah. okay. The case of the mystery poop solved!
Of course, now I'm in a quandary. I have no idea WHERE and no means for removal. sigh. And then my 40 minutes are up and we retrieve Nbear who then must go explore the playground too. At the end of that, we hike back to the car, having almost forgotten the poop. Until. I spot a large object on the sidewalk and think it must be a big, muddy rock. And as I get closer, I realize, oh no, that's NOT a rock, that's THE poop. Which is then pointed out by my proud 2 year old.
It was HUGE. Grapefruit sized.
And all I could do is keep walking. Would someone else just assume it was dog poo or is there something that screams: "I came from a human!" about it? And does that make it worse? Is human poop on the sidewalk worse than dog poop? I want to say yes, but can't figure out why. So I just left it. And I have this feeling that karma will return the favor to me; but part of me (knowing just how much poop I've cleaned up in the last 5 years) wants to believe that I am just facilitating the karma for someone else. I sincerely hope that it's not any of you.
3 comments:
My bet is karma was working through you (your second choice). If my mom was a karmic believer, she would agree that most of your karmic payback rests in the fact that you have two young boys to wrangle. Of course, that all turns around when they become teenagers, when those of us who have two girls become the bitches of karma, instead.
We're still basking in the post-visit glow. Thanks for making the trek.
Ha ha! This post had me laughing out loud. Did you ever read my post about the time I was waiting somewhat patiently for Anna to poop for like 20 minutes, then realized I was sitting on the poop?
I remember those big ballooning poops that balled up in the underwear. Is it bad karma to say I am glad I am further away from that stage?
grapefruit sized? wow.
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