Yes, you read correctly... dog poop. I've been waiting for it to happen, and today it finally did. Benjamin and I were exploring outside this morning (it finally stopped raining so we could do that again!) and I turned my back for a minute to throw a stick for Sadie. When I turned back around, I noticed that Benjamin was intently inspecting something on the ground. Not just inspecting, but probing. WITH HIS HANDS. I bent down to take a closer look and realized that my son was playing with dog poop. Dog poop . Disgusting. I whisked him up and into the house, zombie style (arms straight out in front of him) and thoroughly scrubbed his hands with my favorite "Kitchen Lemon" anti-bacterial, hopefully anti-dog poop, until his hands (and arms) smelled like a citrus grove. As he sits next to me while I write this, eating a granoloa bar, I have to reassure myself that the anti-bacterial soap did it's job (as did the hot water and vigorous scrubbing for a full sixty seconds...
Learning to love myself in the messiness of life.
Congrats!!!
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