Because your husband is out of town, and for some insane reason, softball games for eight-year-olds last two and a half hours.
Because you're holding the baby who is the only one brave enough to cry about how boring the game is. Strike-one-two-three, ball-one-two-three-four, out-walk-walk-walk-out-walk-out, repeat. Make it stop!
Because another parent just asked you if that was your kid squatting in the grass out yonder toward right field.
Because it's potty-training time and you asked him not to poop in his pants, so he didn't.
Because it was already a rough enough day to get dinner from McDonalds, which a friend pointed out is already poop in a bag. But the bag and an empty french fry container do come in handy when you have to scoop your kid's poop. And it couldn't just be a little poop...must have been the McDonalds.
Because just then, your husband drives up, back from a week-long work trip. "Hi! You guys went to McDonald's, huh?"
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