My Son Has Poodyphobia

Just so no one gets the wrong idea, I really don't have some fascination with poody--really, I don't. When I had a bit more control over what my children did and said, I wouldn't allow the word p**p. And f*rts were called "bottom noises." And they were never allowed when others were around.

So it pains me to share Taylor's story, but I'm suffering through the telling . . .

Tay tells me that yesterday he walked outside and a bird dropping splatted on his shoulder. OK, I thought - that's gross.

Forward to this evening. The weather has been excellent, so we picnicked at the park, then moved our lawn chairs under a huge old tree to enjoy an outdoor concert. The three of us were sitting there side-by-side, when a little brown squirrel turd drops out of the tree onto Taylor's lap!! The look on his face was priceless!

So Taylor decides that he's not going to go outdoors again without protection.