... IN POOP! My husband is a germ-aphobe; perhaps one of the reasons I married him was to watch and be entertained at his expense.
My favorite verse of a camp song to demonstrate my demented humor:
Oh I wish I were a little church pigeon!
Oh I wish I were a little church pigeon!
I would sit upon the steeple and poop on all the people!
Oh I wish I were a little church pigeon!
Witnessing my husband change baby diapers was a riot; it went something like this. (So apparently he's not the only one. And in complete honesty the hastening time to potty train our youngest is not anticipated with great joy.) But when he comes unglued at the bird droppings and spends over an hour hosing down the kids yard toys I burn more than a few calories in side splitting laughter.
However, he takes little regard to NOT parking under the tree and recently Andy began to take the bird droppings on his car personally. He proclaimed, "I've been noticing, no one else has the extent of bird poo on their car that I have!" Moments later we walked out of the store and found another car that also likely parked under trees. To his relief in response to his incorrect hypothesis he exclaimed, "My car is not the only bird toilet!" Gives new meaning to the word porta-potty, doesn't it!
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