You may think I'm talking about the neighbor's dog.
Wrong.
If you have a boy--or a husband for that matter--you probably know where there is going. So pull up a chair, dear reader, and listen to how this conversation went down...
(Back door opens and Zachary (4) and Isaac (almost 2) come running inside)
Zachary: "Dad! Dad! Guess what!?"
Me: "He's not here, he just went to the store."
Zachary: (Eyes wide with excitement) "You are NOT going to believe what happened!"
Me: "What? What happened?"
Zachary: I. Just. Pooped. Outside. (Smiles broadly, waiting for my exuberant praise.)
Me: "You did WHAT!? Zachary, we don't POOP outside!! Where did you poop?"
Zachary: (Looking confused. Clearly this was not the response he expected) "Over there on the side so no one can see me. Like Daddy told me."
Oh dear Lord.
Me: "Well, Zachary, we don't poop outside. Ever. You poop inside on the potty."
At this point, I walk outside with him where he shows me the location of his convenient makeshift outhouse. Sure enough, a fresh, mushy pile of poop is laying in the grass, already covered in FLIES. I almost threw up.
Guys, I can't make this stuff up. Pray for the mothers of boys everywhere.
Needless to say, I marched back in the house and immediately called his father. His response to my question of whether or not he told Zachary he could in fact poop in our yard?
"Haha! Did he really poop? Well, I guess he did or you wouldn't be calling. Umm, no, I don't think I told him he could poop......well, actually maybe I can see how he might have been led to believe it was okay......."
For the love.