Do you ever have those days why you can't remember why you wanted to have children?
Today is one of those.
Not that I don't love my child. I do. Like a lot.
But tonight, I came home from work with a giant headache (a very common occurrence these days), threw together a quick dinner, and then sent Carolyn outside in a swimming suit to play in our little pool so I could do the dishes.
Ten minutes later, I didn't hear anything, so I stepped outside to find her buck nekked, squatting on the patio.
Me: Dude, what're you doing?
The Kid: I 'm trying to poop outside just to see if it works.
I made her get up from the squat and run inside to go on the potty.
I insisted on it.
She then proceeded to have explosive diarrhea all over the bathroom - the wall, the entire toilet, the rug, the undies I made her take in there, and in the end, my legs.
I would have made Husband clean it up, but he's working late.
Of course he's working late.
Yeah. Massive dry heaves on my part.
I should have just let her poop outside.