Let me set the scene:
Ellie is supposed to be getting into the shower where Tim is bathing Gwen, who is covered in poop.
I am frantically running around with wet rags and a can of Resolve in an effort to remove said poop from the white carpet in Ellie’s room before it stains.
(Yes, I am an asshole for having white carpet installed in a home with two young children and three cats. Let’s just set that aside for the moment, shall we?)
Ellie gets curious and goes to check out Gwen’s masterpiece, as I’m rinsing out the rags for the third time.
Ellie: “MAMA! Come look!!”
Me: “I know, Ellie, she pooped in your bedroom, I know. I’m cleaning it up, hold on.”
Ellie: “No, Mama, come look!”
Me: *sigh* “What?!?”
Ellie, beside herself with excitement, gestures to one of the stains on the carpet.
Ellie: “Mama! Look! It’s a POOP STAR!!!”
I look down and sure enough, at my feet I see a recognizably star-shaped blob of poop.
Leave it to Ellie to find immense joy in the little things.
(Also, Gwen is fine and happy as a clam; it’s just a stomach bug. A really messy stomach bug.)