I'm realizing that you learn very valuable lessons in times of crisis. Like for instance I can handle the sight of my own child's blood (aside from the initial moment of panic) we learned this when he split his eye open on the entertainment center. But I can not handle seeing my own child's bone. I learned that when he smashed his head into the coffee table. Let's just say we had a love hate relationship with our furniture for a few months. Boys will be Boys I guess.
First thing this morning I learned another valuable lesson. My husband is COMPLETELY USELESS when it comes to dog poop. If you have been reading my posts you know that yesterday our dog Bear started having some issues. I called a vet and he recommended we give him an Imodium AD tablet every four hours and see where we are in the morning. Everything seemed fine last night so my husband thought it would be okay to let the dog sleep in our room like usual.
***WARNING*** This next part may be a little TMI for the squeamish!
I woke up to the alarm clock and the faint smell of poo. I looked over to find that the dog had left us another "Split Pea Soup" surprise all over our bedroom floor. My husband seemed fine at first. He took the dog and put him back in the guest bathroom and we sat down for a cup of coffee. We decided that my husband should take him to the vet first thing. Now I think the next part is hilarious but then again I tend to be the kind of person that giggles a little when I see someone trip on a sidewalk. My husband proceeds to continue our current conversation as he walks to the master bathroom (he has to step over the poo in order to do so). Why haven't we cleaned it up? You may be asking yourself. #1 it is 4:30 in the morning #2 I haven't had a cup of coffee yet and #3 I'm hoping that my husband is going to volunteer to handle this one since I was knee deep in it yesterday. What happens next pretty much answered #3 for me.
As my husband is talking I hear, "They said **gag** that we **gag** should **gag gag**....." He couldn't even STEP over it without almost contributing to the mess himself! My big manly husband couldn't even walk near dog poo without gagging. I began to laugh uncontrollably. This happens three more times at least before it is time to take the dog to the vet. Each time he gagged I laughed. Yep apparently I am the kind of wife that laughs at her husband's weaknesses.
So now we have established that I am "Captain of the Poop Patrol" and I'm a big meanie. All in all a very educational morning!
2 comments:
That is awesome that Brandon can't handle dog poo.
If it makes him feel any better, I can't do our cat's poo or pee. There is just something about digging it out of a litter box that just makes me gag.
Chip is our certified poo-picker-upper. :)
Brandon is thinking about making me an official Captain of Poop Patrol badge. ****yay****
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