I thought it was some leaves. Hey, I’m middle-aged now and my eyes aren’t what they used to be. And it was early. So I touched it.
It wasn’t a leaf.
It happens. Shit, that is. And no, it wasn’t the dog. Linus has never had an accident in the house.
My kid, on the other hand, does. In his defense, he was probably wiping. It wasn’t a big poop on the floor, and he stands up and turns around to wipe.
Wiping your bum is remarkably complicated, apparently. Because we’ve been working on this forever.
This is the part where I shrug my shoulders and figure, whatever, he’ll get the hang of it. Eventually. I hope.
Then we can work on washing our hands religiously. Cause I found a schmear on the wall, too.