First, thank you for the donuts. It was really sweet of you to invite us over on a rainy saturday morning and let our wild kids hang out with your much better behaved children. Our kids loved it!
Second, I’m really sorry my daughter pooped in your dining room.
What can I say? We’re potty training. Shit happens. Literally. I’m really sorry it happened in your house. Twice apparently. If I’m to understand the situation correctly, after we left, you found two separate balls of poop–one in the playroom and another in your dining room? Damn, that’s embarrassing.
But I can’t say that I’m surprised. As I said, we’re potty training. Twins. At the same time. The last few weeks have been a blur of urine and feces, most of which has been found in places it’s not supposed to go. I’m happy to report that they’re getting the hang of it, but there are still accidents. I know a lot of parents simply refuse to leave the house with their kids during this tough developmental period. I can understand the inclination to hunker down until the potty training storm blows over and the children have better control over their bowels, but I will not live in fear. No sir, we’ve kept to our regular schedule, running errands, visiting friends, going to gymnastics…it’s like playing Russian Roulette. You pull the trigger enough times, the gun will eventually go off.
(Which reminds me, I should probably take this opportunity to apologize to the fine folks of REI. I’m really sorry my kid peed in your tent display. And your elevator. My bad.)
Unfortunately, dear friends, the gun went off in your well-appointed dining room. This is embarrassing enough, but I was absolutely mortified when I learned that you mistook the small turd for a toy ball and picked it up with your bare hands. Man, that sucks.
If I may point out a silver lining–at least you had hardwoods. It could’ve been a lot worse.
So, to recap–thanks again for having us over. The donuts were delicious. Sorry about the poop.
Quit blaming it on the kids. One of those was yours.