Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Can't make this crap up.

Monday in the seven o'clock a.m. hour:

After ten days of vacation-Daddy-immersion, Bub is reluctant to see hubby head back to work. Shoeless and jammie-clad, Bub begins running down the street after him. Solution: I pack the boys in the stroller and we walk Daddy to the train.

As we are walking along the brick path on the east side of Wrigley Field, Bub spots several large pieces of dog poop. This pile of crap provides conversational fodder for the rest of the walk home. Why was that poop there? Why do dogs poop outside? What happens to their poop? Those of you who converse regularly with preschoolers will believe me when I say that I explained no less than five times how dog owners use a plastic bag to pick up the poop and throw it in the garbage.

Wednesday in the seven o'clock p.m. hour:

Hubby and I are enjoying some turkey burgers on the deck.* Bub, who eats dinner earlier with Little Bit, is enjoying a brownie.

Bub finishes his brownie and starts playing in the yard and garage. Hubby and I smile and laugh about how cute and funny he is, NTB. Oh, look at Bub, he's opening and shutting an umbrella. Oh, that Bub, he just loves playing in the dirt. Oh, our Bub, in and out of the garage. What does he find so fascinating about the garage? Also, how cute does he look in his jammies, but why do his pajama shorts always seem to be twisted? And on and on.

At one point, Bub walks past us and into the house, claiming he needs a plastic bag. I say to hubby, "He is obsessed with sorting things (especially candy) in plastic bags." I do not think a thing of it.

But you, you're starting to get a whiff, right?

A few minutes later, Bub calls hubby into the garage. Here is a rough transcript of that conversation:

Bub, pointing with pride to some poop, yes POOP, on the floor of the garage: "Look, Dad."

Hubby, using stern voice: "Did you do that, Bub?"

Bub, after hesitating: "No."

Hubby: "Who did it?"

Bub: "A dog ran into the garage and pooped and ran away."

Hubby, after sighing: "Where's that plastic bag?"

Bub: "I want to watch you pick it up."

Bub also insisted on going to the alley to watch poop be deposited into the trash.

And there you have it, all of (sh)it.

*Level of enjoyment debatable. I thought the burgers were flavorful; hubby thought they were "alright."


Anonymous said...

Hilarious! m

Actchy said...

Oh my. I am reminded of a story I am loathe to share on a public forum. Remind me to tell you at the forthcoming October nuptials.

Anonymous said...

Too funny. Good thing that dog who pooped in the garage doesn't take miralax...cleanup might have been trickier. LAP

Sarah D said...

Too funny!!

Amy said...

Sorry, but this was LOL funny!

CaraBee said...

That's pretty funny! So the understanding is that he pooped in the garage just so he could have a poop picking up experience like the dog owners do? I guess that's better than pooping in the yard. And at least he was quick to clean it up. So really, it's not all bad. Imagine if you'd come upon him mid-squat? Someday he'll be so glad you remember all of this stuff.

Maggie said...

These stories just make bubby seem all more endearing. I just love this story!

msh said...

great one, mep!

Anonymous said...

cake said...

i am so familiar with that type of conversation! and the repetition. but hey, that's how we learn things, right?

cosmo is also obsessed with sorting things.

very funny story, nicely told.

Anonymous said...

This made my afternoon... Mom spent night enough said about the beginning of my day.BDavin

Nap Warden said...


E... said...

I love this.

East Coast Bro said...

only thing that keep Rog & G's attention at the beach is poop...probably a 5 minute discussion before we can move on.

Sara said...

Hilarious. And disgusting. Perhaps a good one to tell at his rehearsal dinner.

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