Cash and I were enjoying the day off last Monday, soaking up the late afternoon sunshine in the backyard. The dogs had destroyed a cardboard box and paper was scattered across the yard. Cash seems to thrive when given helpful tasks rather than no direction at all. I walked him around the yard and gave him paper to throw in the trash. He got the hang of it quickly so I tried to hurriedly pick up the little piles of dog poop while he was distracted. I pushed all the poo into a pile, keeping an eye on Cash. He was wiggling and waddling all over the yard, giggling and squealing while throwing handfuls of trash into his own pile.
I was making killer progress on my poo pile.
Or so I thought.
I scooped another lump and looked up to check the progress of my little man. He carefully picked up a scrap of paper in one hand and poop with the other. Before I could yell, he threw the paper in the trash and added the poo to my pile, looking at me with sheer satisfaction.
"AHHHHH! Noooo!" I yelled.
His lip started to quiver and tears started falling.
Bad mom had hurt his feelings.
"Oh honey, mamma's sorry. Good job" I said while scooping him up in my arms. "I love you bubba. I'm sorry"
His eyes still full of tears, he wrapped his arms around my neck, poop getting on my shirt.
Ah. Ugh. Gag.
After a thorough scrubbing - and shirt disposal - we settled on sharing an ice cream... because we all know, ice cream fixes everything.
No more poop scooping around the little man.