Poopy Piddles are the Pits!

First, let me congratulate myself on my fine use of alliteration. Here in Mommy-land I don't get to enjoy all the fine things of the English language very often...unless you count the numerous times I say dada...

or nigh nigh....

Yes! Those count!

ah....oh.....ok...onward! Forward!

I love taking walks or rollerblading with my son. I try to go outside with him at least once a day, preferably more, but since the days are so sunny and hot sometimes it's only once. Whatever. We still make it out every day.

Yesterday I strapped on my blades and we hit the trail, with my Music on the Move speaker playing my favorite tunes. (LOVE that feature of my jogger!) The trail starts out on quite a downward slope. (LOVE that part of the trail, too! Until it's time to turn back around....augh!) As we sailed down the paved passage I pointed out to my son the beautiful trees, singing birds, annoying, barking dogs,....then it happened. I saw in the distance a smokin' pile of poo, freshly deposited. It was too late. I was going too fast. I had no choice but to glide my right blade right through it. Of course I was able to stop shortly thereafter, to survey the damage. There, slicing through the center of the poo was the imprint of my roller blade. I don't say bad words. (Especially in front of my son.) But I came awfully close. I now had to wipe off the poo the best I could in the dead grass and move on. (Blades with poo AND dead, flaky grass do NOT make for the best blading conditions! Trust me on this one.)

Seriously, people...pick up after your pooches.

I used to scoff at walkers who walked with little blue bags of poo....for miles! No more. I admire them. Thanks for doing your part. I will never again stare at the poop bag in your hand and roll my eyes.

We did make it a little further up the trail before we turned around, plowing up the steep upgrade back to our house. I feel great for getting my son outside to enjoy nature.