We have agreed to watch the children of friends from church. These fine folks are standing in our foyer dropping off their babies. We're engaging in a little small talk before they leave. My sweet, delicate daughter walks into the foyer and says "Excuse me, Mama". A feeling of pride washes over me at her use of good manners. What a great dinner guest she will be someday, I think to myself. Who needs etiquette classes? Nick and I must be the smartest parents alive! We should write a book. Then she sticks her hand out to me and says,
"My hand smells like poop."
Well, at least she's cute.