Mirth and Poop


Why am I telling you this? Over-sharing gone awry? Latest journal entry turned crass and uncouth? Bordering on foul? Probably. But here I go anyway.

This weekend, after a scorching day of watching the brood play in the sprinkler (my version of AC), I am taking an evening shower to wash away the sun, and my sweet, sweet husband is generously putting the girl down for the night. I get out of the shower all fresh and revitalized and plop down on the couch. I look up and previously mentioned “sweet” husband is giggling..not the manly chuckle…giggling. And there is an evil undertone to it. I suddenly am wary as I eyeball him. It is then that I notice how far over on the couch he is sitting, opposite of me. Now I know that I don’t smell, so it has got to be something else and I am thinking by the wicked way he is cackling now that it is has got to be a good one..and at my expense. I usually like to be on the giving end of these kinds of exchanges; I am the one with the insufferable sense of humor, and he is the long afflicted saint to my mean monkey business. I am a little afraid now. He asks me if I want to know why he is sitting so far away on the couch to which I reply yes. And my husband, who promised to love and cherish me, tells me that Lyla POOPED, yes pooped, where I am sitting. So you know those moments where you freeze out of disbelief and alarm? Yes, I am suspended there. How can he be serious, and if he is how the HELL can he be laughing?? Why has he not put the couch on his back, hauled it into the yard and burned that mother??? WHY? WHY? Then it hits me, that he is trying to best me, trying a little of my twisted humor on me. Mirthful he may be, but evil just does not suit him. But he got me there for a minute. Then, because of my silence and the expression on my face, he says he cleaned it, scrubbed it really good. WAIT? WHAT? My little precocious, appealing and somewhat sweet girl, with an ungodly butt pooped beneath where I am sitting?? So folks this goes to show you that sometimes nightmares do become reality and that if you ever come to my house do not sit on the far right end of the couch. Because I never will again. EWWWWWWWW! GAG! ARGHHH ( THAT IS HAIRBALL NOISE FOR YOU NOVICES).


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