My basis for this assumption came to me today in a cup of poo. Oh, how I wish I were kidding, but you just can’ t make this stuff up.
It was actually a form of punishment and one of the many ways I am being tested through motherhood. Well, I got an “F” today.
Here’s my recipe for cup ‘o poo:
We were at home and I really wanted to get some work done. My son had been so good that I decided to reward him with some M&Ms in a cup and his favorite TV show.
I sat down at the computer to work. A few minutes later, my son comes over to me with the cup that had once held the M&Ms. Something was off. As he walked towards me I saw what looked like chocolate chips in the cup. But on closer inspection, my boy…my darling angel, had proudly brought me a cup of his poop.
Why is this happening to me? What was his message. It didn’t take me long to figure it out. Clearly, he would rather have my attention than my bribe (my hush chocolate). Duly noted, son. Duly noted.
I cleaned him up and gave him my undivided attention the rest of the night.
Yet another lesson learned the hard way.
Please tell me I am not alone in this? Somebody…anybody? Bueller? Well, since my cup runneth over with poo, I think I will go find some wine or hard liquor and toast the moms who invented it.
So, there’s more. Read It’s Not Me, It’s Poo for the next part.