Sometimes It's A Crappy Job

My two-year-old was in the tub and about 10 minutes into her bath as I was setting up the towel for the drying process I hear "Mama Poop Out! Poop Out!" I turn around and there is my angelic little girl being circled by a dozen of her own poop balls like a hungry pack of lions on a frightened baby gazelle. She had this look of horror on her face. The expression of the weak one in the herd that had wandered away from the pack. That poop didn't look all that happy either.
I quickly snatched her from the fecal clutches and called my husband. He rushed in, assessed the situation, considered his options, and took the clean toddler to diaper and get ready for bed.
I was left with the shit soup.
I had no idea how I was going to get the crap out. Oh did I mention there was three dozen bath toys amongst the dump. MOSTLY squirt toys.
I thought about using a spoon to scoop the poop, but anytime I'd eat a yogurt after the clean up I would inevitably think "is this the Poppy poop spoon?"
Or what if we had guests over and they needed a spoon for their tea or coffee? Shit spoon roulet.
So...I used my hand and scooped 9 mini dumps out the tub and into the toilet.
It actually wasn't that bad. I mean, she's my kid, right? This is family poop.
It's like when you have to pick up after your dog on your daily walk. When it comes out of your dog it's second nature to clean it up, but when you're forced to pick up an annoynmous doggy dump you're gagging all the way through it.
Mind over matter.
If that had been my nephew's crap I would've passed out. And that would be totally acceptable because he's not mine...and he's thirteen.
Erin zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz