Poop Diary

Today I am writing about poop.  Yes, poop.  Turds and stuff.
It's not my fault. 
An employee and I were talking about our pets.  I was pleased that my less than intelligent dog seemed to be learning the rule of not pooping in the house.  It's been a struggle, requiring the use of treats as a reward for doing the deed outside.

Anyway, as this conversation progressed, we got into the category of cat poop.  I remarked that Sir, my extra-large tomcat, shits er, poops dog turds.  She understood having had a large cat of her own once.

And Herself, Cat, Mistress of All, poops little dry pebbles of poo easily swept up if she chooses other than the litter box.  Not that she would.  Often.  This elicited an "aw" of sympathy for the trouble it must be to pop those dry pellets out.

Then, there is Wee, who in perfect accord with cat mythology, leaves in her litter, perfectly formed little tootsie rolls.  Which the dog never, ahem, attempts to eat. (Did I mention my dog is less than intelligent?) 

We then look at each other a moment.

We are talking about pet poop.

As though this is an important aspect of our lives.

That we can tell which pet is which by poop.


We need affirmation that we are not alone. 

Please.

I Am Not a Doting Grandmother

Yesterday I got to babysit for the grandkids again

Yes.  I'm that annoying Gramma with the perfect grandchildren.

The granddaughter is 3 months now.  She does 3 month old stuff.  Eating, spitting up after eating.  Pooping, smiling after pooping.  Crying cause the diaper is dirty.  Smiling again in a dry diaper.

She is also trying to roll over.  She is a Genius.

The grandson is all kinds of 2 year old BOY.
Grandpa has a bunch of plastic tubes, connectors and pieces to replace the old drain lines in the basement.  They are also the best toys in the entire universe. 

The boy spent the entire day dragging them around.  Trying to put them together.  Propping the long line up and rolling a ball, pen, kaleidoscope, battery and back scratcher from top to bottom.  Over and over. And over.

His vocabulary is increasing daily.  I can understand most of what he says now.  He says Gampaw, but hasn't figured gramma out yet.  My name this week was mostly "cracker?", but at least I knew what he wanted.

His mother has a potty chair for him.  The kind with the duck.  When the duck gets wet, it quacks.  He doesn't ask to go yet, but if she puts him on it, he goes.

She is in for a challenge with this kid.  Last potty use, she rinsed and emptied the little bucket.  After she replaced it, this boy, ran his finger across the bottom.  Stuck it in his mouth.  And said ahhh.

Daughter speaks, probably loudly," NO!!!  That is disgusting!"

Boy looks at his mother.  Grins.

And does it again.

I love this boy!