Add this to the annals of super gross motherhood moments

River takes a poo in his portable potty and stands up. Sitter goes to dump poo. Mom goes to fridge and grabs homemade oatmeal/dried fruit cookies. Mom breaks off pieces of said cookies to share with River. Mom realizes River’s shorts are around his ankles and pulls them up for him, still holding cookies. Mom shares a bit more and then finishes cookies. Mom sees brown smudge on right hand. Thinking it’s cookie remnant, she licks it. It is not cookie remnant. Poo and cookies do not mix.

Unless there was a moment in very early childhood that I no longer remember, I have never before eaten poo. I don’t recommend it. Even though it was a fairly miniscule amount, the immediate reaction was one of complete disgust. I’m sure it was partly a conditioned response. In the same way, I couldn’t enjoy the seven varieties of dog served at a dog café in Vietnam, even though I strongly dislike dogs, because I’d been so culturally sensitized to consider dogs as pets. But in contrast to the dogs, the taste of this was gross – a deep bitterness that remained even after multiple spittings, a brushing of the teeth, drinking sodas and eating food. A bitterness that is still there even an hour later, a grossness that I really can’t do anything about other than to try to not think about it too much.