Ruby called my name at 3 o’clock this morning. She didn’t sound too distressed but I went to her anyway because she was longing and because I’m trained like that. I shuffled down the hall to her room without opening my eyes since keeping them closed for as long as possible when meeting her late-night needs is mandatory if I’m going to fall back to sleep.
“Here, mama,” she said. I opened one of my eyes, I can’t remember which, and took from her hand an olive, which was peculiar. Hmmmm, I thought. Why in the hell does she have an olive in bed? Did Sam give her an olive as a bedtime snack? But as I rolled the olive between my thumb and first two fingers, it felt less like an olive than like Playdough. I held the olive/playdough beneath the light of the bedside lamp and started to put things together. At this point, both eyes were now open.
The haze of sleep dissipated at nearly the same moment it occurred to me that Ruby doesn’t have any dark green playdough. And to confirm my worst suspicion, I totally did not bring the olive-esque, doughy substance within centimeters of my nostrils and take a sniff. No. I did not. But had I done so, the effect would have been akin to smelling salts waved beneath the flattened nose of a TKO’d boxer.
Apparently, there was a disturbance in the force, the force being my daughter’s Pull Up and the disturbance being a pellet poo. And the girl does not sleep with pellet poo, so she removed the object and handed it to moi as if she were a feline delivering a captured mouse as a peace offering. Then she stuck her thumb in her mouth, stuck her butt in the air and headed back to dreamland. I did my run-as-quickly-as-I-can-to-the-bathroom-while-gagging routine, and Sam dragged Ruby out of bed for clean-up. I didn’t go back to sleep after that.
If anyone had told me three years ago of the hideous things I would endure as a parent, I would have told them to put down the crack pipe.
13 responses so far ↓
1 Jenn @ Juggling Life // Jul 9, 2008 at 2:14 pm
Next Friday I’ll tell you the story about when my son vomited into his Dad’s mouth!
2 Cheri @ Blog This Mom! // Jul 9, 2008 at 2:29 pm
I will not eat tapenade at your house.
3 san // Jul 9, 2008 at 2:49 pm
Life is full of nasty surprises!
4 Nicole // Jul 9, 2008 at 3:27 pm
I was eating an olive while I was reading this.
5 veronique // Jul 9, 2008 at 6:20 pm
oh how i can’t wait for my very own pellet poo!
6 Beth // Jul 9, 2008 at 6:37 pm
Almost worse than finger painting with it.
7 Melanie // Jul 10, 2008 at 12:13 am
So glad I don’t like olives. And pellet poo? That’s a keeper.
8 bonzize // Jul 10, 2008 at 5:44 am
Hmm…pellet poo. Reminiscent of a video I saw recently . Funniest video I’ve ever seen. It was about poo staim.
xoxo
9 Angel // Jul 10, 2008 at 6:37 am
i somehow thought this might be a funny story about Ruby and a martini…boy was i wrong! Hope you’ve all fully recovered from your pellet-poo episode
10 Martha // Jul 10, 2008 at 11:12 am
Makes me so happy I don’t do green olives.
11 San Diego Momma // Jul 10, 2008 at 7:03 pm
Another really unpleasant thing is when your kid poops in the bath. Because then it disintegrates on all the bath toys and is just generally disturbing.
12 All Adither // Jul 10, 2008 at 7:49 pm
Egads. I would’ve been wide awake for the rest of the night.
13 Amyesq // Jul 13, 2008 at 12:56 pm
Ha! We call them pellet poos here to! Actually, we call them pellet poojes because poo has been renamed pooj so as to rhyme with Jooj. But I digress. Where was I going?
Oh yes, the things we endure. I bet you washed your hands like 100 times that night.
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