Butt, Really

Sometimes, I think all I see are hind ends.

Like the summons I got this week to wipe a 4-year-old butt because, “Mah-ahm!  There’s too much poo-oop!”

“Thank you,” I said when we were through.  “I appreciate that you told me before there was a big mess.”

My preschooler looked me in the eye and said, “It was my pleasure, Mom.”

No, no.  The pleasure was all mine, Cai.

Sometimes, I think all I see are hind ends.  Then I wonder if I’m only lookin’ down.  Dwelling on the crap.

That’s not who I want to be.

So I look up.

Yep.  It’s a land full of butt traffic with no respite in sight.

Just wanted to share my perspective.  You’re welcome.

Have a terrific weekend.

From our butts to yours,

Beth

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ABOUT BETH WOOLSEY I'm a writer. And a mess. And mouthy, brave, and strong. I believe we all belong to each other. I believe in the long way 'round. And I believe, always, in grace in the grime and wonder in the wild of a life lived off course from what was, once, a perfectly good plan.
1 comment
  1. Well, I spent a couple days at my parents house and the word for that time was apparently poop. From the dog doing it’s business on the carpet and then tracking it around the house (I found it in my bed as I’d also apparently stepped in one of the tracked spots when I got up at 5am to nurse the baby), to the 4 year old not “quite” making it to the toilet, which required a bathroom cleaning, to the baby who of course is a master of the poop. I think my parents were glad to see us go to our own home!

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