A friend once told me we have more poopscapades in the Hooligan Household than she does with her nine month old baby. We don't have kids with whom to compare, but I think she might be right. Pumba definitely takes the lion's share of this in our house, but Gucci isn't without her contributions either. Neither are usually very funny at the time, but in a day or two (or sixty), I can come to see the humor in these situations.
Gucci provided a novel episode of potty humor the other day in a way that I would only have expected from Pumba, if for no other reason than that he eats anything and everything. As I was standing by the bed folding laundry and humming along to the radio, I didn't notice Gucci make her way into the room until she sat on my feet.
My feet became suspiciously warm and slimy. Afraid to look but already knowing what I'd see, I nudged her off and she waddled a few feet away. Yes, that's right, my bearded lady had eaten enough grass to, well, let's just leave it at she ate too much long grass.
I think we all know what happened next. I know as a nurse I've done far grosser things, but outside of the hospital, the gross threshold is much, much lower. Gucci knocked the limbo bar right off with this one.
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