I have maundered on a lot over time about my son padding around our appartment. Now, however, he is a little boy; and little boys, it turns out, do not pad at all; rather, they clank. Clutching a nest of toy cars and airplanes, the spud cannot trust us enough to leave them unattended even for a second and is forever toting more cars than he can carry. He cannot do even so much as a quick wee wee without dropping bits of cast metal into the loo, the bath, under his father's feet, it's ridiculous.
We have, however, had progress on pooing in the loo - cars or no cars - and to that end, I am celebrating the hopeful end of all poo stories on this blog by inviting any interested parties to send me your favourite poo stories.
I know you have them. Lurking in your archives. If I get enough responses I'll publish links back in a full-on, glorious, poo-story-dump in a couple of weeks time... what do you think?
ps, I dedicate this post to my brother because he loves poo stories SO MUCH!