When You're Writing About Your Kids, One Can Never Have Too Many Poop Stories

We all went out for dinner the other evening. As we were getting up to leave, I noticed a piece of chocolate cake smeared across the seat of my chair. I looked at the back of my khaki shorts and found that they were smeared with chocolate cake as well.

I didn't even have chocolate cake.

So I picked up a napkin and attempted to clean my shorts. I stupidly said, "Look, Zoey! It looks like I pooped myself."

Zoey yelled, "YOU POOPED YOURSELF?"

I could feel the stares of the occupants of the surrounding tables as they tried to catch a glimpse of my ass (which admittedly, happens a lot). I sat back down and tried to figure out an escape plan.

So I poured my drink on my lap. I figured a wet crotch would be more noticeable and society wouldn't frown on piss-stained clothes as much as shit-stained garments.

See how my mind works?

But it didn't actually come to that. After picking up the glass, I noticed Zed's diaper bag on the floor. I picked it up, slung it over my shoulder, and covered the stain on my pants. I held my head high as we walked out of the restaurant.

For one night, I was ecstatic that my son is still in diapers.

GHS: 6

Song of the day: Everything She Wants by Wham!