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Writer's pictureJenny Wynter

In Urgent Breaking News

This just in.

Caleb: Mummy, can I go outside?

Me: No honey, it’s too cold and wet out there.

He runs outside. Me: Cay! Cay? Come inside please.

He keeps running, down the stairs and under the house to the dog poo covered lawn (don’t blame me, it’s not our dog.)

Me: Cay! Upstairs please!

Him: No!

He starts playing with his little taxi cab, kneeling his way across the lawn. He comes to a stop right next to a particularly fresh pile of turds. Me: Please Cay, come upstairs right now before you get covered in dog poo.

Him: What?

He looks up at me, overbalances and falls directly onto the pile of foulness. That’s right, DIRECTLY onto/into it. Me: AHAHAHAHAHA! (not said in a laughing way, in a mock crying way).

I run inside, hold my head in my hands and start blogging the pain away.

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