"Babeola took an epic dump today," my husband announced upon my return from an outing.
"Hmmm. She's wearing the same outfit. That's not epic."
"Well it was horrible."
"No, horrible requires an outfit change."
Big sigh of aggravation. "Who died and made you the queen of poop?"
"Poop: It's my job."
For the record:
Epic poop: Clothing change, washing of bed linens, and bath. Oh, and parent is slimed with poo at some point.
Horrible poop: Clothing change.
Terrible poop: Smelly but contained.
My husband was complaining about a terrible poop. He has No Idea.
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