If You Give a Boy an {Apron}...

If you give a boy an apron...

He'll think, "Maybe I should bake something.."

He'll see the container of blueberries and decide to make muffins.

So he'll mash up the bananas...

and he'll probably want to scrape them into the bowl (all by himself).

He'll ask for a spoon to stir them up...

And he might drip a little on the floor.. just to see what happens.

But when some drips on him, he'll want to wipe it off. So he'll probably need a dishrag...

But then he'll stir some more.

He'll measure out some strawberries (after he taste tests a few)...

And very carefully dump them in the bowl.

He'll check them over one more time, and then let mommy put them in the oven 

(Because we all know only grown-ups can do that, sillies!)

And we all know - when you give a toddler a muffin, he'll want another and another and another...

(No worries - this occurred BEFORE the rabbit poop incident.. so there's no chance the muffins were affected.. in case you were worried.. I would be).

Full of {Poop}

But seriously.. since Trice was born, I feel like poop consumes my life - at least it's been awhile since I've found myself discussing my child's bowel movements with the clerk at the Hallmark store. I do get out a little more these days...

Some of the most recent "poopy situations" in our household included Trice stripping himself in his crib and pooping to avoid napping. Or all the mornings we wake up to, "I poop. I poop. I poop" over the baby monitor. Or how every time we ask him if he has pooped he responds, "No. I farted." Gets.me.every.time.

Today was no different. 

I decided to take advantage of Trice's infatuation with throwing tennis balls over the neighbor's fence this morning and try to get some yard work done. Our yard is out of control - literally the eye sore of the neighborhood.

You might need to do something about it when instead of giving an address, you just say "It's the house with all the weeds/dead plants out front." 

All was going well. I was watching Trice out of the corner of my eye and when he'd lose one over the fence, I'd toss him another one. I must have looked away for more than a second because he came running at me yelling, "Mommy, mommy, look, look, look!" He held out his hands... to reveal a handful of rabbit poop. Rabbit turds. Is this real life? 

So what did I do? In true Grace fashion, I panicked. I gagged, then shook his hands, and said, "DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING. NOT YOUR MOUTH. NOT YOUR SHIRT. DON'T TOUCH. NO NO NO!" 

He said, "No touch. Ucky. Doggy poop." ... Yes, buddy.. doggy poop - yucky!

We successfully made it inside without touching anything. Then a horrible, horrible though occurred to me.. .had he put it in his mouth? I mean, he tends to do that with unusual things.. we won't even talk about why we now have the Poison Control center magnet front and center on our fridge. I can't imagine the embarrassment if I had to call and say, "My child ingested rabbit turds. Is he going to make it?"

Another wave of panic set in. So, of course, I questioned him.. "Buddy, you wouldn't put yucky poop in your mouth would you?" 

... "No mommy. No mouth. It ucky."

Phew. Wait.. wait.. did I just give him the idea TO put it in his mouth next time he picks it up? Great. Seriously, who let me be a parent. 

Please, Lord, just let tomorrow be a non-poopy day!