It landed with a splat.

I whipped around frantically, scanning the floors to assess the damage, and there it is. A single piece of poop on the kitchen floor. Shit had happened. 

My husband was teaching that night, so I was doing our evening routine solo. Our 13 month old was running through the kitchen naked and screaming with our two dogs close behind. She was not interested in a bath, but does enjoy streeking in the evenings.

At first I couldn’t determine who produced the poop – was it human or feline. When I heard the splat, I said “Freeze!” in my best concerned Mom voice. It worked like a charm, because all three of them stopped and looked at me, waiting for my reaction. When I got closer it was obvious that all signs pointed to the toddler. The evidence was a few inches from her feet and there was an “ugh oh” look on her face.