and how was your day, luv?

Mine? Thanks for asking!

My day was shitty.

Actually shitty. Want to hear?

(Your head shaking says "no," but your eyes? Your gorgeous eyes say "yes!")

Number 1 - Within moments of arriving at the bookstore Thursday morning for yet another glorious and enviable shift in the children's department, I'm grabbed by a mother wanting a book to entice her toddler into potty training. "Isn't there some book about pooping? Like Where's The Poop? or Everyone Poops?" she inquired, actually giggling about using the word "poop" with another grownup. I suggested my personal favorite, Zoo Poo (interesting protagonist, compelling story, an unexpected twist in the second half, and "monkeys doo doo-ing right in front of you."). A variety of books at her disposal, the woman thanked me for my knowledge (I'm a regular Poo PhD., ladies and gentlemen!), and was on her way.

Number 2 (heh..."number 2"...snicker, snicker) - Shelving toddler board books, I'm having a delightful time, toiling through my day, when I round the shelves at the intersection of "Favorite Characters" and "Sound Stories" and am hit by a funk of such magnitude, I have to briefly wonder if I've triggered some type of sinister suburban warfare. Fearful the eight copies of "Brown Bear, Brown Bear What Do You See?" ("I see a monkey doo doo-ing right in front of me!") won't be enough to protect me from the evil that awaits, I steel my resolve and peek around the shelves. And the evil? Crouched on the floor was a woman bent over her toddler charge, changing the most vile diaper I'd seen in my life. On the floor. In the children's department. Nice. In fact, I said that. "Niiiice." As in "It's nice you couldn't take that little jaunt to the ladies room and take care of that business there. Where there is a changing station. And trash cans meant for bathroom type items. But since you didn't, sure! Yes! I welcome you to throw that bundle of disgusting in the trash can right over there. There. Next to my computer. Where I can enjoy it all day. See you soon! The memory of your visit will linger! Before you go, can I interest you in a copy of "Everyone Poops"?"

Number 3 - At the little play area toiled a young boy and his mother. Mom was hyper perfect. The kind of mother I have a tendency to measure my own mothering skills against when I see how devoted and catering she is to her child. Then they start talking. "Mother, I believe it is time I go to the bathroom now," the boy, probably four years old, says. I'm momentarily jealous, thinking my kids would be all "Woo hoo! We're having fun. Check this out. We'll just go in our pants, like it's no big deal." Ideal Albeit Creepy Kid is very precise about his need to evacuate his system (I picked that "evacuate his system" thing from Ideal Albeit Creepy Mom). "Mother. I think now I have to poop. Before I did not need to poop. But now? Now I feel the need to poop." Vigilant Mom is all "Did I rush you before? Before, when you said you needed to just pee, and you peed, did you feel like you had to poop, but I only gave you the opportunity to pee?" (I swear to you, I am not making this conversation up! I was so taken by it, I grabbed a piece of paper and jotted it down as it went on). "You were in a bit of a hurry, Mother, but at that time, I did only feel like I had to pee. I did not then feel like I had to poop." "Oh, I knew I was rushing you! I shouldn't have rushed you! If I hadn't rushed you, you could have taken the time and pooped then." I could understand why he didn't feel he had to poop earlier. A mom this schedule focused likely caused him to clench up. Their scintillating conversation - which I quickly turned into the "How Many Times Can We Say Poop!" game - went on for 26 minutes, during which time I feared the child would poop on the floor of the play area, and the mother would scoop him up and scurry off, ninja style, and pretend he'd not just left us with a gift(this has happened, thank you very much, with a father and two toddlers sporting raging diapers of doom). The "say poop again" game ended at 28, btw. My money was on 34.

So that was my Thursday. It was, indeed, shitty. Four hours of work (phew, life's rough!) and that was the bulk (heh...'bulk'...) of my experience. Jealous?

And yep. I just wrote an entire post revolving around poop. Good job, me. Good job.

Seriously, though, how was your day?