A few days ago the girls and I were outside playing in the yard. Things were peaceful-ish. Gianna was bolting with the hot pink baby stroller and a stick straight down the driveway for the street while screaming "BUH-BYE! BUH-BYE". And Davy was playing in dirt.
But unfortunately because Gianna is pretty much incapable of keeping herself in a semi-safe state in the outdoors I decided to be a party pooper and bring the crazy indoors. With the widows closed. Where they scream after I force them inside and lock the doors.
Anywho. I grabbed Gianna first, because she is the most reckless and plopped her in the house. She screamed. Davy knew what was coming next, so she did what any kid would do. Ran to the backyard. I knew Gianna was not safe alone in a home for more then 4 seconds so I mad dashed with my gimpy knees back inside and left the wild animal Davy outdoors unattended. Gianna was temporarily scarred from being left unattended for 4 seconds and needed some serious snuggling and kisses to calm her little body down.
I looked outside and saw Davy coloring peacefully on the driveway with chalk right outside the window. "Davy? Sweet love? Can you come inside darling child? Mother dear needs you to come indoors now for a nutritious and delicious delectable." That's what I should have said.
I think I just screamed her name and attached the word door to it.
She informed me that she was drawing a bridge and asked sweetly if it was the same bridge that she used to go on in San Francisco when she was a baby. It was almost an exact replica out of blue chalk made using circles and squiggles. She was so happy out there. I watched her from the window and then put away a few items disgracing my kitchen table.
I yelled out for her to come in now. I heard her try the front door. It was locked from a few moments earlier while capturing Gianna.
She ran to the back door. I heard her trying to open the door.
"I'll be right there Davy..." I told her. But I gave her a second. She can always get that door. I figured she would get it open like she always does.
But something was different. I heard nothing.
So I looked out the window and saw this:
Davy standing in my neighbor's yard with her tights and shoes and underwear thrown in the grass next to her. And she was squatting in a pink fluffy dress.
"DAVY! What are you..."
"Oh."
Then I saw it. Poop in my neighbor's yard.
It's ok though. A teenage neighbor boy was driving by at that exact moment. He was stopped in front of my house. Rightly horrified at the scene.
I was maturely and quietly laughing hysterically while walking toward the door.
Davy was traumatized. She had to go so bad.
I was kind of proud of her for not pooping in her pants. It really sucks cleaning poop out of clothes.
After they were down for a nap later I went outside with a plastic bag like people with dogs do when they remove feces from their neighbor's yards. It's pretty much like the same thing right?
