Okay, Big B swallowed a magnate, night before last. We have been waiting for it to 'show itself'. This is the conversation I was just in...
"I pooped!" Big B says. (by the way he is 9!! What in the heck is he doing putting a magnet in his mouth!?)
"Oh great!" I say. "Hubby! Big B pooped!" (sharing the news)
"What?" Hubby says. Yea right...
"It's diarrhea." Big B says.
"It's diarrhea!" I call to Hubby.
Ok, so he is the one that had this great idea to put on a rubber glove and squeeze the poop between his fingers to try to find the magnet. I figure, he's the one with the idea, he should be the one to DO it.
"What?" Hubby says again. "I'm writing."
"I'm writing too." I say.
A HUGE sigh comes from the office and Hubby drags himself past me to the bathroom.
"I can't BELIEVE you swallowed a magnet!" Hubby says to Big B.
"I'm going to my happy place, I'm NOT touching poop right now. Uggggggg, fhewwwt, shhhhhh, mmmmmmm, hrumpf." Hubby groans.
"Found the magnet! We found the magnet!" Many boy voices call from the bathroom.
THANK GOD! (especially Thank God that I didn't have to put my hand in the poop to find the slippery little devil...)
Sorry to Say (Dogs and Guilt, Revisited)
2 days ago