The New Yellow Bulldozer. Bob stopped suddenly and pointed to a dirt smear on the bed.
"Is that poop?'
"I don't think so, honey. It's probably dirt. Did you smell it?" Bob leaned down to the sheet and took a big whiff. Then the hollering began.
"It's poop! There's poop in the bed! It smells like poop here! Our house is all poo-ed! It's stinky in the house and bed! Everywhere is poops! Poop!" He took off, waving his arms and ran through the living room.
Because taking him at his word would have been too easy, I leaned down and smelled the sheet for myself. He was right. I gagged a little. I lifted Jeff's pillow. More poop smeared there. Who was responsible? As usual with situations of this nature in our house, it could have been anyone. (You know who you are.)