No not active military duty, but that other duty.  Many days parenting seems like active duty with safety drills, chore assignments, and casualties of war.  I am the commanding officer.  But I’m talking thinking more like doodie.  Think “Caddy Shack”, a pool, and a Baby Ruth.

The scene of the attack

While our youngest was entertaining himself with bath time antics of shoot mom with his squirt gun (yes, a squirt gun) and sneak attacks of peek-a-boo, I sat on my throne taking in the mild chaos.  Upon the next shooting session, He temporarly stunned me with, “here mom, here’s my poop”, plopped the gift into my hand, and slammed the door in my bewildered face.  So I did what any shell-shocked parent would do.  I opened the door, gave him back his “package” and led him to the toilet.  We promptly broke out in “bye bye poopie” dance and closed the excitement with a solid flush.  Needless to say active duty kicked in with a major wash down of the kid and an extreme cleaning of the barracks.

Duty, doodie, whatever…it never ends.


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