Before LG was born, when I was out of ideas for Fun Things To Do and was tired of Bug velcroing himself to my legs in desperate boredom, I would resort to a tried and true distraction: hard manual labor.  Nine times out of ten this meant playing a Very Fun Game called Raking The Yard.

Yesterday was unseasonably balmy, and Bug had already come out of his room to ask me How Many More Minutes? about thirty one times during his hour long rest time, so it seemed appropriate that we resume our raking ways of yore.  It seemed like it might make for a fun afternoon.  And for the most part it did not disappoint:

HOWEVER.

Soon after we began, I darted inside to get my camera to capture the moment of Xtreme Fashion Brilliance I had with LG today (short sleeved shirts over long sleeved onesies - TRIPLED her wardrobe.  BRILLIANCE, I say)  and this is the shot I got:

I checked the image in the camera and had a little chuckle over LG’s WTF! face when I realized that she had EVERY RIGHT to that expression.  There seemed to be a mysterious black spot on her shirt that had not been there before I fetched the camera and when I bent down to inspect I discovered a STEAMING GLOP OF BIRD SHIT.

BIRD SHIT. ON MY BABY.  BLEEAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGHHH.

I am not much of a germaphobe, but OMG.  POOP.  FROM A GERMY BIRD. DID I MENTION IT WAS ON MY BABY.

Nine Clorox wipes and a few doses of straight bleach later I decided just to burn the shirt.

I couldn’t get the image of that festering inky pile of Avian bird flu out of my head and obsessively kept checking LG for any signs of further fecal attacks.  Finally I got an umbrella and propped it up over her bouncy chair as a safeguard. Not quite the super fun wholesome afternoon rake-a-thon I had hoped for, but with the umbrella in place I relaxed a little and enjoyed the fresh air.

It was all but forgotten too, until Lorso, upon hearing the incident report, shrugged and said, “At least it didn’t land on her face.”

And now: NIGHTMARES.  FOR WEEKS.