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.
Over the last three years, we have spent approximately $107,499.99 on crap… with which Colt never plays.
Cars, trucks, balls, trains…
Springy-flashy-bouncy-things that vibrate and roar and come with 2,000 tiny parts.
And then we have spent another $25,499.99 on storage bins and lids and labels and baskets to compartmentalize the crap, so that my mother doesn’t call the fire inspector.
And despite all this excess,
Colt has this adorable little friend, Landon, and today was his 4th birthday party.
The party was pirate-themed, so I expected the usual plastic flags, metallic beads, head scarfs.
And sure, there was all that…
Oh, and A LIFE-SIZE-WOODEN-CUSTOM-MADE-PIRATE SHIP [insert choir of angels].
Do you know what we had at Colt’s pirate birthday party?