My daughter, the comedian.

So here I am outside, putting Lucy in her car seat and enjoying the crisp sunny weather when I feel a rock hit my back. OUCH.  I look around like WHAT THE- and grab the spot where it hit… and then I feel it. Um nope, not a rock.  SEAGULL SHIT.

My first thought is THANK GOD it didn’t hit Lucy. (OK fine- my first thought can only be expressed in a series of symbols and exclamation points) But can you imagine those foul germs on a 3 month old?  With a 3 month old immune system??  And it would have actually hurt her because that shit fell with a FORCE. It was like a bullet! Imagine as that story comes out in the future, Lucy realizing that as a baby she had been bruised and bird virused due to being forcefully shat on in a grocery store parking lot. BAD START TO LIFE, BABY.

But alas, it had fallen on me. That forceful shit, the one that was now down the back of my shirt and in my right hand, with its green-yogurt-mixed-with-sand schrapnel having ricocheted all over the inside of the car door.  What in God’s name do those things eat.

So Nat comes out of the store and sees me with a look of horror on my face, wiping down the entire universe with my millions of Pampers unscented aloe wipes. He sees what's happened and tells me it’s good luck. No no, I say.  Good luck is pulling into a parking spot and realizing the meter has already been fed.  Feces falling out of the sky and onto the back of your dry clean only sweater, and then you grab it with your bare hand?  I'm gonna go with NOT GOOD LUCK. 

But do you know what it is an omen for? For when you get home and get cleaned up and pick up your beautiful baby, and she immediately has a blowout all over your just-put-on clean shirt.  Good one, Lu.




Sue said…
I called you answer. I guess you were dealing with a lot of shit!

Love, Mom

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