The Boys do all the Pooping. And you know it.

1). I have the worst cut near the underside of my pinkie toe from stepping on a cookie cutter that was on the floor in the kitchen.

2). Kindergarten registration is a week from tonight and whenever I begin to mentally formulate any word that begins with “ki,” I let out a convulsive gasp followed by hair trigger weepiness. It happens so fast and takes me a good fifteen to twenty seconds to recover.

3). For efficiency, I’ve been trying to run through that entire process while I’m taking a potty break at work. The only part that still needs hammering out is how to make the tears on the front of my shirt dry by the time my hand is back on the door handle. 

4). Damnit air.

5). Today I found an unexpectedly comfortable seat on a spot of soft grass on a tiny hill on the playground and I felt so guilty about enjoying it that I kept calling kids over to talk to me so I could still “do the teaching.”

6). Today while changing diapers I said to a coworker- oh my gosh- I just realized I always expect the boys to have pooped, and never the girls. I feel so bad. 

7). When, in ten to fifteen years, this generation of boys is angry at us for accusing them of doing all the pooping, you’ll be able to trace it back to this post.

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