A few years ago on holiday in Canberra, Chelsea was giving us all nicknames. My mother was Queen Sandra, my father Princess Gon and S was Prince Leif (nice) and I somehow was called Princess Pooshoe. And I hadn't even trod in anything.
Well obviously it runs in the family. Getting off the plane at Heathrow, S was trailing a long piece of toilet paper from his shoe which I found hysterically funny. Then a few days after we got here S trod in something which he swore was badger poo. It was bad news.
Yesterday, Jack and I went to St Albans again and amongst other things purchased new shoes for Jack as he had grown out of his other ones. The girl told me that Jack has wide feet (I felt quite proud of his wide aussie feet) but then he had just burped in her face. Such a charmer.
Today we took Jack and his new shoes to the park to break them in. The weather has improved and it was sunny and there were lots of dogs playing (with their owners obviously blind to the doggy deposits they were leaving).
Jack wandered off to explore then came back and jumped up and down on me to say hello (a traditional form of greeting). It was then that I noticed the dog poo on jack's shoes and of course now also on my jeans. I removed what I could with a serviette and a stick but there's a slight whiff of woofiness. People here at the library are ever so polite but I can't help noticing the funny looks. Maybe they'll think it's Jack's nappy or a badger walking past.