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Poop. Exhibit A.

I recently arranged a play date I’d been secretly coveting for awhile. Do you not do that–try to schedule a play date for your kid so you can try to friend the mom? No, well, you’re a better person than I am. I feel that finding the right play date parent is no easy task. You want to be able to laugh and talk in complete sentences and drink (several) glasses of wine while your kids traipse around playing family, ghosts, or just shrieking in corners. Add into the mix you’ve got to get kids together who actually LIKE each other, and this search can be downright challenging.

So I was super ecstatic when I was able to successfully arrange a play date with a little girl from Emme’s class. The two girls get along grand, and the mom, well…girl crush?? She makes three kids, including a brand new baby, look effortless, recently got her PhD, and plus her hair ALWAYS looks good. For real.

The afternoon was everything I hoped for! Wine and charcuterie, talks of grown up things and kids left (for the most part) to the own devices. It was a smashing success. After awhile, however, we started hearing less and less of the kids. As in, silence. So my new playdate partner in crime trudged up the stairs with new baby in tow to check on her two kids, Emme’s school friend and her little sister.

That’s when I heard it. The loud parent shriek, followed by silence. I ran upstairs to see who had written on the walls or stuck dollhouse figurines into eyeballs, but everything seemed perfectly normal. The kids were contentedly looking at books and playing with stuffed animals. But the look on the mom’s face was of utter astonishment. She had found it–the poop. “I’m so so sorry. I think my younger daughter just pooped on your daughter’s chair.” She whispered to me. I looked down, and there it was. A beautifully solid piece of excrement.

What, is this not normal?

What--it's not normal?

And then I laughed and laughed and cried from laughing. I had to come clean, so to speak. “That’s not poop. I mean, it is, but it’s not what you think. That’s poop soap. Sam and I have a gross game we play. It’s called hide the poop soap. It’s currently on Emme’s chair.” I was happy for her that she knew her daughter hadn’t dropped a deucer on the chair cushion, but sad for me. We had totally been outed for the uncouth folk we really are. We hid poop soap in our daughter’s room, in our bed, tucked into socks. It’s just who we are.

Luckily, this playdate parent had a good sense of humor. Score another round for me! I found a mom friend who drank wine AND liked to laugh about poop. And since then, we’ve both had our fair share of other, more real poop encounters to worry about. That’s the thing about being a parent. Poop happens. And sometimes, it also brings you closer.

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