Stop! Why is there poop on you?

The other day I was playing with my boys. We were having a great time. I layed on the floor shooting them over my head with my legs. They laughed and feigned fear as they flipped through the air. They ran and tumbled in quick succession as I tossed them one at a time. Max ran up for his turn and shouted "Stop, mom!" Being the good mom I am, I continued. As his turn came around again, he shouted again, "STOP! MOM, STOP! Why is there poop on you?" That got my attention. I looked down to where he was pointing and saw the brown splats on my shorts and my shirt and confused replied, "I don't know. Why is there poop on me?" Gove ran and looked and was sufficiently disgusted. James smiled and slobbered at the mouth-watering brown splats. Nolan peered over the edge of the sofa upon hearing of the possibility of poop. Now, before I finish the story I have to mention the fact that you know you are a mother when the possibility of poop being on you is neither shocking nor appalling. I wonder, at what point in my life did poop being smeared all over my clothing become a real possibility? I am certain that 5 years ago if I looked down at my shorts and saw brown, my first assumption would not have been poop. But, there I sat seeing brown and thinking poop. To make it worse my kids and my husband also thought - Kristina/Mom+Brown=Poop.





Why is there poop on you?

Disgusting!

Mmmmmm...



Okay, so I realized after a few stunned seconds that someone had dropped a chocolate-covered almond on me during the course of the... I don't know... day and it had melted all over my shorts. It bore a close resemblance to poop. Hooray, it wasn't poop. Not this time anyway.