(Leave Time for Poop)
Or, “You just can’t make this sh** up.”
I was going to be on time. I really was. Everything was ready, the diaper bag was packed, snacks and waters and wipes. We were actually going to get to the parking lot with enough minutes to unload the car, walk at a 3-year-old’s short legs’ pace, and be where we were supposed to be right on time, without hurrying, rushing, worrying, or needing to pray for green lights.
And then, as I picked up the baby to carry him to his car seat, an unmistakable smell reached my nose….