I’m signed up to run a half marathon in June, and Saturdays are my long runs. Saturdays are also the day that Casey takes Kenny and Cooper out to a diner for breakfast. Since we all “slept in” this morning (Hey – in a house with three boys 5 and under, sleeping past 6 am is considered “sleeping in…”), I took my cell phone along, and told Casey to text me when he got to the diner, and I would meet him there to get the baby.
Three miles into my run, the sky let loose and the rain poured down on me and Dudley, who hates to be wet under any circumstances. Just as I ducked under an awning, my cell phone sounded an incoming text. This is what I read, verbatim:
“Charlie had giant runaway poop. Everywhere. Coop yelled, “I have a poop too!” Remember you left him in pajama bottoms only. No diaper. :) Charlie crawled in Cooper’s poop then stuck his hands in toilet. We are leaving house in 2 min. All good.”
I looked at the rain coming down. Looked at the text. Maybe running in a downpour wasn’t so bad after all…