I do believe I may have found my tiny ship of order....at least for the…
Poop. Seriously. Every night, the kids (much to my prompting), get ready for bed. They all line up and give me hugs and such. Then, Big Daddy tucks them in. This has been how it has always been. That is their little moment with their daddy. Who am I to mess that up?
Well, last night, I heard a few hollers and several “it wasn’t me” statements. The “Not Me” kid must have moved in, again. I heard Big Daddy fussing “who put that poop on the cabinet door?” That phrase got louder and louder and louder. Then, I heard my name being screamed from the hallway. No one was confessing, and he was bringing in the big guns (that’d be me).
I walk to the bathroom, and sure enough, a wad of crap was smeared up the cabinet. Short of someone going to the bathroom and then walking over (say, the height of a 5 yr. old) and wiping their behinds on the cabinet…not sure how it got there.
Process of Elimination
I lined up all 5 kids.
First question “who went to the bathroom?” … everyone raised their hands in silence.
Second question “who pooped?” … only 3 out of the 5 raised hands. Hence eliminating 2 suspects.
Out of the 3 left standing were my two oldest and my youngest. I think we could safely say that the 2 older ones where not the culprits. That that left my, newly turned, 5 yr. old standing…all in asunder.
5 Year Old Vs Me
“Where’d this poop come from?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you put it there?”
“No, I don’t know.”
“I need to know how it got there so I can clean it up.”
“You could always get a rag and then wet it.”
“Who put the poop there?”
“I think a dog did.”
“If I smell it, I can tell if it is dog poop or your poop. Do you want me to smell it?
*****Never give a kid a statement like that, you will eat your words. ******
I smell said poop, and I determine it is, indeed, a dog’s.
“It’s dog poop, how’d you get dog poop on there?”
“I stepped in it. Then I got the hand towel (the one where kids wipe their MOUTHS on after they brush their teeth. It is also still laying on the sink). I wiped my foot off. When it wouldn’t come off, I wiped it on the counter. Finally, it came off.”
…And that folks, is how the poop got on the counter…