When I had Colt, my nose evolved into a super pooper sniffer.
A finely tuned machine capable of distinguishing between BMs of all kinds. Healthy. Solid. Runny. Viral.
Like a German Shepard to a bag of coke.
My mom has the same skill, as did her mother before her, and her mother before her.
We come from a long line of Poop Snoops.
Today we took Colt to JumpZone – Bounce House Emporium.
Let’s talk about the GENIUS who thought of this place.
It’s literally a warehouse in the back of an office park. Chock full of inflatables…and lawn chairs for the parents.
Todd and I were considering booking Colt’s birthday party there, but I wanted to check it out in-person to make sure it wasn’t run by pedophiles.
To my relief, we were greeted by a bunch of college-aged girls in camp shirts and khaki shorts (a little eye candy for the daddys.)
Colt’s eyes widened, and he was off and running!
Climbing, sliding, bouncing….expending more kilojoules of energy than Gene Simmons at a KISS Concert.
There was a nap in our future, guaranteed.
As I was daydreaming about all the things I would do in those three hours…
I smelled it.
I tried to slough it off, but the odor got stronger. Todd walked over and twisted his nose up at me.
Even he agreed. Somebody had pooped his pants.
We scanned the room…
Somewhere a little train was chugging into funky town, and I was going to spot it.
The other parents sat in their lawn chairs, unaware.
I could literally taste it in the air. HOW DID NO ONE ELSE SMELL THIS?
Maybe these were the same parents at Maggiano’s who apparently couldn’t hear their children screaming bloody murder right next to them.
Maybe their senses had shut down altogether?
Then I saw him.
His barely-mobile-little-butt waddled around in an odiferous fog.
Cute little booger.
Oblivious to his affliction, he looked up at me and giggled. Where were his parents?
Maybe his mother dropped him off to go get a facial.
We shuffled Colt to the other side of the Zone for some fresh air.
A few minutes later I saw Poopy’s mom come out of one of the birthday party rooms and scoop him up.
Oh good, surely she’ll notice….
But she didn’t notice. SHE. DIDN’T. NOTICE.
I was actually going to suggest to Todd that we become franchise owners.
At $9 a head, this cash cow is making somebody a lot of moo-la.
But I spend enough of my personal life dealing with poop. I don’t want to have to worry about it at work too.
So I guess JumpZone is out of the question for us.
But we may still have Colt’s birthday party there in a couple of months.
If you get an invite, please bring extra diapers. Poop snoop will be in the house.