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Last week, while getting the kids ready for school, we all found ourselves in the bathroom at once. I was trying to tame Noah's hair while Zoe was brushing her teeth when I spotted something on the wall. Closer inspection revealed it was poop.
Poop.
On. The. Wall.
I don't have babies or toddlers anymore- my children are school-aged. An inquisition began.
"OH DISGUSTING! I DIDN'T DO THAT!!", my OCD son practically screamed at me.
All eyes turned to Zoe (the five-year-old).
She looked dumbfounded (and I suspect she really didn't know how it got on the wall).
And where normally she would throw accusations back at her brother resulting in yelling, fighting and tears that I have not consumed enough caffeine to tolerate at 7am, Zoe decided to keep life interesting.
"You know what probably happened?"
(thinking this should be good) "What 'probably happened' ?"
"Well, you know how you like to leave the bathroom window open? Well, I think that one of those pigeons that poop all over the backyard probably came inside and pooped on the wall and then went back out."
I stand corrected. I have much more serious things to worry about in the mornings than fighting children and a lack of caffeine.
Swooping, pooping ninja-like pigeons that sneak in the house through opened windows and poop sideways on the wall.
I am going to go with that, because I probably can't handle the truth of how poop really got on my bathroom wall.
And, just in case, I think I am going to shut the bathroom window.
