At 6:50 this morning, I was in Musktopia. I was frolicking on lake shores, eating shell crackers and kicking some beaver ass. A previously unnoticed beaver rose from his dam with warpaint on his face and a bow in his hand. His battle cry of “Ahgopotty Ahgopotty Ahgopotty!” was my only warning. An arrow came flying towards me, and, as soon as it left the evil beaver’s bow, struck my chest.
I lurched from the bed. Looked around. The monitor was blaring from upstairs, “Oh go potty! Oh go potty!” I ran upstairs, grabbed the Toddler from her crib, and headed for the toilet. I felt warm liquid running down my stomach. Damn that beaver for his accuracy! But, of course, it wasn’t muskrat blood on my underbelly, but Toddler’s urine. I was too late.
Not an hour later, I’m on my neighbor’s porch in my pajamas while our two dogs pee in one another’s yards. I’m hearing about the redneck bar they visited last night in Gwinnett County. The Toddler is in her night shirt and is standing in the neighbor’s grass. Her face scrunches.
Me: “Maddie, what’re you doing?”
Toddler: “I go poop.”
Me: “NOOOOOOOO! You do not poop in our neighbor’s yard! Hold it while we run to the toilet, okay?”
Toddler: “No! I poop right here, Daddy.”
Erric the Neighbor: “It’s not like your Dad doesn’t shit in our yard every night.”
I run inside, grab a plastic grocery store bag from our reservoir, and head back outside.
Pretty Bride: “Winnie crapped in the neighbor’s yard again, I see?”
Me: “Nope. Your daughter did.”
For other blogs featuring potty humor, check out these humorous blogs!