Shit on the floor

No it’s not a metaphor, although it would be a good one to describe me generally.

I’m talking actual brown logs on the actual carpet. If you don’t want to read about poo, look away now.

This was the beginning of my day.

You see, L in her infinite toddlery wisdom decided that she needed a po.  She also decided that she needed to take her nappy off to do said poo.  What she didn’t decide to do is ask for the potty or remove her pajama bottoms.

So, poo rolls down the inside leg of her PJs and on to the deck. Nice.

OH goes in, just as I’ve managed to get the non-sleeping baby to doze next to me in the bed and I hear cries of needing my help as there is poo everywhere.

Of course I feared the worst, jumped out of bed and lept in armed with half a roll of loo paper wrapped around my hand…all after waking non-sleeping baby to move him to the cot.

I’m greeted by the carpet bum-fudge. It’s not nearly as bad as I imagined.

A wipe and a flush and we’re once again poo free having survived our first escapee turd monster disaster.

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