Curls And Crying

When husband came home from work on Monday, LissyBean lept up from behind the sofa and flung her arms round him. He thought that was a lovely way to be greeted. I thought it was odd that she was in the process of pulling her trousers up but she's three. Three year olds mostly are odd.

A couple of minutes later, husband noticed that our lounge smelt of poo. On discovering that BoyBaby was wandering around with no nappy on, we figured we'd better search out his nappy and poo.

Things didn't quite add up...

So, I searched and searched around behind the sofa for the nappy, or the poo and my foot was the first to find it. There it was. On my foot. Brown and squidgy and stinking. Everyone knows I hate poo. Can't bear it. Hate it more than any mother of children should. It's so disgusting. I had it on my foot. I did what any not very level headed woman would do and cried. Like a baby. Husband thought this was very funny. As did LissyBean and she shouted upstairs to WonderBoy that, "Mummy is crying because there's a poo on her foot".

Husband isn't quite as bothered by these sorts of things as I am. I sat there gagging, retching and crying as he cleaned it off my foot.

After some intergations and investigations (I checked their bottoms), it turns out BoyBaby wasn't o blame at all. I asked what she was doing pooping behind the sofa and she said she was trying to poo on my lid (The lid from the box that contains my greeting cards). Why? Why would anyone do that? LissyBean then stood at the top of the stairs and shouted, "I curled one out!". She wasn't my favourite person in the whole wide world that evening.