Several months ago my little boy came flying into our dining room flailing his arms, wagging his tongue, and mumbling something I couldn’t make out but I knew it wasn’t good. He collapsed to the ground and continued rambling inaudibly while on the verge of what was sure to be a complete meltdown.
I picked him up and yelled somewhat apprehensively, “What happened?!”
His response: “I just ate poop!”
Him: “I just ate poop.”
The conversation continued like this as I hoped I was hearing wrong or perhaps that he would change his story.
It turns out he didn’t really eat it, but he did put it in his mouth and spit it out faster than the Cubs can give up a lead in the ninth inning! So, how did this happen? What looked like a stray Cocoa Puff on the floor was actually a little round…