I Ate Poop.

This evening Cub, me and daddy were all sitting together at the dinner table. It was a lovely Sunday evening. We had just returned home from a Sunday afternoon cruise along Malibu and were feeling pretty darn good.

I decided to mash up some avocados for Cub's dinner since he hasn't had any in a while and I had these perfect plump organic (ooh lala) ones from the natural food store. Yum.

So we're all sitting there, just big fat happy campers. And I say to my husband, I don't think he's pooped yet today. Because you know that's the only topic of discussion these days. Forget what's on the news, the injustice and poverty happening around the world or anything else of adult interest and content.

My husband makes a comment about hopefully he'll get something out before his bath. And I agree. Definitely before bath or tomorrow morning -- NOT in the middle of the night.

We carry on, enjoying feeding Cub. Laughing at every little smile, expression, chomp and what not. Just doing what all silly new parents do. Then Cub starts making "the face". That red hot poop face. We're trying not to laugh because his face is literally beet red. Almost purple. If I didn't know any better, I would've called an ambulance because it was so ridiculously red. The poop face by itself is very unflattering, but all the more hilarious. Anyway, we don't want him to see we're cracking up, because our little munchkin is trying really hard to focus.

Then it's over. Just like that.

Cub's back to chomping down avocado and some butternut squash I threw on the side. Easy enough. I can definitely smell the results but it seemed like a pretty uneventful poop.

I start wiping down Cub's face preparing him to get out of the high chair and I notice there's some avocado on the chair. I swipe it off. Licking the remains from my finger. Then -- STOP!! What the ??... it's EVERYWHERE. Avocado EVERYWHERE. WAIT -- that's NOT avocado!! I just ATE poop!!

I'm in shock. Not just because I ate poop, but because this crap (pun intended) is ALL over the high-chair, on Cub's little chubby legs, feet, and now my sundress and thighs, which he's rubbing his poopy heel all up and down on.

I just sit there. Frozen. My husband's telling me to do something. But I can't. I'm poop paralyzed.

My husband then jumps up and gets some wipes. I manage to somehow get Cub out of the chair and to the changing table only to find MORE poop mysteriously popping out of random folds and crevices. Where did all of this come from??? My husband's enjoying every moment of this. (Side note: he was with Cub all weekend, so this is my turn to handle the diaper change. Great.)

Cub's finally clean. We get him into the tub. All is well. But to top it off, as daddy continues to laugh at mom getting poopified, Cub does a nice fountain of urine all over daddy's jeans. Now that's my boy!

As I sit here recanting this story to you, I'm suddenly remembering... I STILL haven't washed my mouth out! Quality.