A lot of my life seems to have to do with poop. Sometimes it’s shit – as in the experiential “oh, shit!” and most of the time it has to do with actual feces landing on, around, atop, or in something and more often than I’d like someone.
Yesterday the shit hit the fan when the poop was on Naya’s nose.
Now understand, please, I’m not negligent. I’m busy. She had to poo so I sent her off the bathroom and helped her install herself on the toilet. Then I left to find something, which was crucially important at the time and now I can’t remember what it was…which does not say anything about the importance of what I was seeking, it’s just another example of how my memory has turned to shit. See?
Anyway, she wailed for me and I yelled back for her to wait. When I returned, she said, “mommy, look. There’s ca-ca hewe” gesturing towards her face (still has trouble with those darned R‘s). Indeed there is was. Mustardy, smelly, and adorning her nose like a poop macaroon – where else would it be? She had wiped and sniffed, clearly a little over zealously.