Last night, during an after-dinner walk, we lost….something. The kind of thing that you really don’t want to look for, or find, but societal niceties dictate you must. Before going to bed last night Husband and I agreed that I had to do my very best to find our lost item as soon as possible. Accidents happen, right? But its just rude to not clean up after yourself.
This morning before breakfast S asked if they could watch TV. “Sorry, Love. We have to go outside after breakfast and look for something.” “Look for what?” Well……
As luck would have it, while eating breakfast, a truck full of workmen pulled up next door. Next door as in ‘the house between our house and the house with the handicapped ramp’. Crap. The next-door neighbors were having their front window replaced today. Do you know how often anyone on this block has construction or home repair work done? Almost never. The chances of this happening today, the day I need to canvass the neighborhood looking for a missing turd, is so slim it is absurd.
I really don’t want witnesses to my turd-search. How long could it possibly take to install a window??? All day, as it turns out. I had planned on conducting my search (and presumably, recovery) in the morning, when no one is around. As my main search area was the handicapped ramp and surrounding ground, I either have to wait out the window guys, or search an area mere feet from where they are working, inviting all sorts of questions that I really don’t want to answer. Cowardice won out.
The window guys finally finish up early in the afternoon. V is sleeping by this time, so S and I conduct the search together. We backtrack our walking route, spending extra time around the handicapped ramp and the yard around it. No luck. During our walk around the block S asks me a zillion questions regarding our poop search. I tell her to be very, very, very quiet as I don’t want anyone to know what we are doing. We pass by people on their front porches, all very chatty. We pretend we are walking home from school, as S is still wearing her backpack. For her part, S did really well. She was silent in front of people, thankfully waiting until we were completely alone before asking me yet more questions about the missing poop.
“Did you find the poop?”
“Maybe a dog found it, and buried it.”
“Maybe. That would be nice.” Although it seems more likely that a dog would eat it. Dogs are gross.
“Or, maybe someone ate it.”
Does she realize dogs eat poop????
“Maybe a poop-eater came along and ate it.”
It occurs to me, during this bizarre conversation, that this whole neighborhood turd-search is completely normal to S. She is only four, so every new experience builds her view of normal life. She isn’t like me, 40 years old and conducting my first-ever open-air poop search, thinking that this might be the oddest thing I have ever done.
In retrospect, I am glad we waited until after school to conduct our search. Had we done it immediately prior to school she would have undoubtedly told her new teacher and classmates about the morning’s adventure. Today was only the second day of school. Surely we can wait a bit before this woman realizes how crazy I am.
As for the turd, it is still missing.