A Crappy Game Of Tag

“Poo!” came the cry from the bedrooms. “She’s got poo in her hands!”

Nothing gets us moving quicker than this sort of exclamation because if there’s poo on hands there’s going to be poo on walls and furniture in no time at all.

We raced in to find Miss1 holding up a brown nugget and grinning like it was a real, quality find.

“Where did that come from?” Tracey mumbled. She’d already peeked down the back of Miss1’s nappy and found nothing nugget shaped or otherwise.

“She got it from under the bed,” said Miss6.

“Actually…” I started slowly, “I might know something about that.”

Equally as slowly, Tracey turned to face me, eyebrow cocked, and waited impatiently for me to continue.

“Last night I changed her nappy before bed and it was full of nuggets. I didn’t turn the light on because I didn’t want to wake anyone but a couple rolled onto the floor. I thought I picked them all up. Sorry.”

“That,” said Tracey, “is disgusting,”

Meanwhile, while Tracey frowned at me, Miss1 had touched Miss9 and it had somehow become a game of tag amongst the kids. They were racing in and out of the bedrooms.

“Stinky-finger! You’re it!” Master8 yelled as he jabbed me with a finger and ran away. It could have been worse, they could have been playing brandy.

Tracey took Miss1 to clean her up but was all too soon back in the lounge room.

“What’s going on!?” she demanded. “Why aren’t you kids ready?”

I was caught mid-stride chasing down Miss9 with my finger outstretched, touching her on the back. Quick as a flash I changed it from a jabbing to a wagging finger.

“You kids go get ready and stop mucking around,” I said in my daddy voice. Tracey did another, even more sensational, eye roll and left the room.

“Ha,” whispered Master8 to his sister. “You’re it.”

“Here,” I told Miss9, putting out my hand for her to touch. “Give it to me.”

“What are you going to do with it?” asked Master8.

“I have a plan,” I said.

…and to the girl at work who was wondering what the hell I was doing when I jabbed her with my finger this morning, now you know.

You’re it, Stinky-finger!


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