All About Pooh


Some days are so full of crap that even when viewed through rose coloured glasses, everything still has a distinctly brown tint.

When we arrived at my son’s first swimming lesson, we learned it had been cancelled due to a “pool fouling.” Um, gag.

When we got home, I got down and dirty in the backyard picking up the ample evidence that we own two healthy dogs. Avery came outside to “help” but was promptly sent back inside. This kind of KP duty isn’t suited for child labour. Clearly her boot hit a land mine on her way back in, as evident by the brown smear across the kitchen floor.

But alas, the sun was still shining so we headed back out to soak up some more vitamin d. Avery drove her new Powerwheels jeep to the park. She managed to stay on the sidewalk half the time. The other half, she was off-roading over people’s lawns, collecting canine fecal samples for blocks. People, just because it’s winter, this does not mean you are excused from stooping and scooping! 

As I cleaned the tires mired in ick, Avery ran inside to take care of her own pressing business.

Like I said, the day was full of crap.

Poo is revolting.

Pooh however is adorable. It just so happens, it was National Winnie the Pooh Day yesterday.

Who makes up these obscure holidays anyway?

Squirrel Appreciation Day? I won’t be celebrating that on January 21st. Squirrels repulse me. One day on yard duty in my elementary school teacher days a particularly mangy squirrel and I made eye contact across the field and it suddenly bolted toward me. You’d run too. And no, I did not push any children out of my way. Well, maybe one. 

National Compliment Day is more my speed. On January 24th, feel free to stop in and pay me a compliment. Just make something up if you have to. And then of course, you know I’ll be celebrating hard on January 31st, otherwise known as “National Bubble Wrap Appreciation Day.”

But I digress. Poo is vile, but pooh is an adorable bear with an unfortunate name.

My mother-in-law told me that my husband used to sob every time his beloved Winnie the Pooh show would end. “Pooh gone!” he would cry. We don’t tease him about this at all. (Of course we do).

Fingers crossed that tomorrow I can say “Poo gone” and mean it.

FYI, if you’re shopping with your child and the cashier gives you a Winnie the Pooh sticker, which you put on your hand to show your child saying, “Look! Mummy has Pooh on her hand!” I happen to know from experience that the customer behind you in line will absolutely take several giant steps back.

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