Little smelly

On the way to school this morning, I thought I smelled something a little. . . poopy. What?!? I thought. Penny already had a dirty pants this morning. . . seriously? I didn't bring the diaper bag (of course). Grr. Still, as I drove I kept smelling it and thinking. . . did I get something on my hands? I had gloves on. I smelled my gloves. I just washed these pants. . . I have been known to wear a pair of pants for five days in a row. Shhh--we won't discuss this. The smell seemed to go away, so I just forgot and paid attention to more pressing issues such as whether pot started with a "b" or a "p". As I'm assisting the boys in their classrooms, I would catch a little waft. Now I knew I had a problem. It couldn't be one of my kids farting in the car--it would have been nice to put the blame there. It is me. My breath? Please don't tell me that I have poop smelling breath and I don't know it. Once again I was distracted (Noel stop touching your sister!), so it slipped from my mind.

The girls and I headed out to Michael's because I'm trying get supplies for a craft that isn't working right. Grr. That is another issue. As we are driving--you got it--the smell. I begin to think and then I reached deep into my coat pocket. Nothing. I reach deep into the other coat pocket--ah--success! There is a baggie with Smokey's poop in it from when I took him for a walk on Saturday! I was happy and appalled at the same time. I'm so glad my breath doesn't smell like poop.