Going on a walk with Marissa is always an interesting adventure. I'm sure Lindsey did many of the same things: refusing to walk the way you want her to, running away and giggling, walking toward the street while looking at you out of the corner of her eye with a devilish grin on her face, waiting for you to run after her.
But tonight was an especially interesting one.
First, Marissa bent down to touch what I thought was a stick on the sidewalk, only to discover that she had stuck her finger into a flattened out piece of wet dog poop. She immediately pulled up and said, "Yuck! Poop!" and tried to wipe her finger on her shirt. Being the wonderful mom that I am, I pulled out my Wet Wipes and...oh wait, I'm not that wonderful, I don't carry those when we go on walks. Instead I let her wipe her finger on MY shirt.
Later on she decided to stop and crouch down and stay that way for a while. I said, "Marissa, what are you doing?"
She said, "Sassa poop," and grinned at me.
"Marissa, are you pooping?!"
No response but a strained grimace.
In the meantime, here comes a father and son duo, coming back from a summer picnic at Pershing Park, walking past us as I wait on the sidewalk for my crouched down pooping toddler. I felt like a dog owner, waiting for my dog to finish a job.
I said loudly to Wayne and Lindsey who were ahead of us, "Hey Wayne, do you have a little doggy bag we can use for Marissa?" I thought it was funny; I don't think he heard me, or he was so appalled he pretended not to.
After about 30 seconds, which I thought for sure would result in an immediate trip back home to change some pants, Marissa stood up, said, "Wet!" and we kept on walking. Apparently she only had to pee.
Last thing, later on she got a runny nose. She looks at me, says "Uh-oh!" and points to her nose.
I promptly use my shirt to wipe her nose, the same shirt I had wiped dog poop off her finger with. I hope I didn't use the same area of the shirt.
It's a wonder our children aren't sick more often.