As any mom of boys can tell you, you occasionally have some very strange conversations with them. Here’s a recent one I had with my son, Cricket, about something he found in the yard.
Cricket: “Mom! We found a black and white glob of something while we were creature adventuring. You should come and see it.”
Me: “Okay, I’ll be there in a minute.”
*thirty seconds later*
Cricket: “Mom, come on! It’s been five minutes already!”
Me: “I’ll. Be. There. In. A. Minute.”
Cricket: *sigh* “Okay.”
*sixty seconds later*
I venture across the yard to where Cricket is sitting, staring intently at a clump of grass. “Okay, Cricket, what’d you find?”
He looks up from the grass. “Well, we found a black and white glob of something while we were creature adventuring, and I don’t even know what the glob is.”
“Where is it?”
Cricket points. “Right here.”
I stoop to inspect the glob. “That’s dry bird poop, honey. At least, I think it’s dry. Don’t touch it.”
Cricket sighs. “I know, I know, don’t touch nature’s stuff.”
I smile. “No, don’t touch poop. Don’t touch bird poop, cat poop, dog poop, bear poop, elephant poop, your poop…any poop. Don’t touch poop!”
What is it with boys and poop? And why is Don’t touch poop a thing that needs saying?
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