Well, poop.

Almost four years ago, I was expecting my first child. With that came certain expectations–in all honesty, I wanted a girl. I wanted a dainty, precious, tender-hearted sweet girl who would sleep on a schedule, never get into anything dirty, play with dolls, and paint nails. God has a sense of humor, and at times it seems a little twisted to me. Four years and two boys later there is nothing dainty about our house, and there is LOTS. OF. DIRT. See this precious face….would you guess that this face has to be washed EVERY night because it’s usually covered in dirt, snot, food, and who knows what else?

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That sweet face, well, he ate poop. The hubby and I were sanding and cleaning off the siding on the house in an effort to get ready to sell (whole other post), and the boys were playing at their sand table. I glanced to do a check and make sure they were still getting along somewhat peacefully. I was puzzled when I noticed H was chewing something with a rather disgusted look on his face. Immediate panic set in when I crammed my fish-hook finger in his mouth to scrape out what he was chewing…poop. Dang dog poop. In four years we’ve had our fair share of poop encounters, but this was the grossest to me…my child was eating poop. I debated googling what to do, but figured that would just end in the assumption that he was going to die from it, so cringing, I broke out the water hose, did my best to scrape any remains of feces out of his precious mouth, and let him guzzle water.

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Thank you God for your sense of humor, precious boys who eat dirt and poop, but thank you most of all for letting them survive it! Also, if my little guy ever argues with me about trying a new food, I’m going to remind him that he was willing to try dog poop, so he sure as heck can try anything!

 

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