So Friday night I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth and someone had left their unflushed “business” in the toilet.
I knew it had to be one of two short culprits in the house, so I went into the den and announced: “Girls, somebody pooped in the potty and didn’t flush!”
If you’re in your 20s and single and reading this and realize that when you’re 40 that making an announcement about feces will be the dramatic twist to your Friday night, besides your husband bringing home red and white wine, well, you probably will be thankful to be 20-something and single. Very thankful.
No one ever fessed up to the crime.
And I was not surprised.
Later I was in bed with Miss A doing the “this is the last snuggle of the night, I swear” because she’s quite good at coercing me into curling up with her in her twin bed until I doze off and wake up drooling on a pillow with my contacts are dried to my eyeballs.
Miss A: “Mommy I love you, you are the BEST mommy ever.”
(See how she pulls the manipulatress strings like a pro?)
“I love you, and Daddy, and sissy, and Bailey and Jack…and the POOP GHOST!”
Me: “The poop ghost? Who is the poop ghost? Is that who didn’t flush the potty?”
Miss A: “No mommy, that was the BOOGER MONSTER!”
Fin.
Or should I say, flush?
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