Poop

Poop.

That is what Naomi said to me a little less than 2 hours ago when she walked up to me with a big bit of stuff on her thumb and pointer finger.

Poop.

I was folding clothes in one of those brain-dead, space-out ways and came back to see actual poop on my kids hand.

Poop.

I said.

Naomi is that poop!

If she had the ability I think she would have said, "yes, Mom you dumb shit. I just told you its poop."

Instead she said.

Yesh. That's how she says yes. Its quite wonderful.

Yesh.

Naomi had poop on her hands because she has discovered how nice it is to get her hands in her diaper and play with her exciting parts.

And today when she went in for a little self-love she came out full of poop.

I am so. So. So. So. Glad she came to tell me about it rather than just wipe it all over the chair, or on her clothes.

Yes. I am at a place in my life where I jump for joy that someone walked up to me with poop on their hands and it was my job to clean it up.

Oh glorious peak of lifetime accomplishments.