the sheep who said "poop" in public

Froggy joined us for breakfast this morning. He sat on the table between Matthew and me and he was his usual quiet green self until he suddenly came to life, propelled by the small hand of my son. Soon my eyes were seeing a blur of green fur as Froggy hopped up and down two inches from my face, yelling "poop!". I pushed Froggy down to the table and patted his head, ignoring his outburst.

"Mommy, Froggy said 'poop'", my son said.

"We don't use that word at the table, Matthew." I replied.

"I didn't say it, Mommy, Froggy did."

Yesterday I kept Matthew home from daycare because I thought he had an ear infection. Fevers and wet coughs usually signal an ear infection for my little guy, even though he is on his second set of tubes. Turns out he has something viral that set off his asthma, so I'm glad we went to see Dr. Rob yesterday afternoon. My son's chronic cough and occasional wheezing is a topic for another day, though.

My little guy rarely goes anywhere without his best pal, Sheepy. Sheepy is a "sleep sheep"- a fuzzy white sheep that attaches to baby's crib and makes soothing whale or heartbeat sounds for baby to listen to as he drifts off into a peaceful slumber. Matthew didn't like this sleep sheep at first and wouldn't let it in or near his crib. A few months after he came home he suddenly was addicted to this thing, finding himself unable to fall asleep without it's soothing sounds. He learned to work the knobs and buttons to find just the sound he was looking for. Soon we were traveling with it.

The heavy battery compartment that makes the sounds is velcroed into the back of this sheep. I know it is heavy because while sharing a hotel bed with my little guy one night I rolled over on this thing numerous times. At about 3 am I yanked out the battery compartment and threw it across the room towards my suitcase, narrowly missing the young friend of my niece who was sleeping on the floor between my bed and my luggage. Good thing, too, because I think this thing would have done some damage. Now Sheepy travels around with us without her sounds.

So Sheepy, Matthew and I were at the doctor's office yesterday, alone in the exam room, waiting for his throat culture to come back when suddenly Sheepy jumped into my lap and said "Poop!"

"Matthew, we don't use that word."

"Sheepy said it, Mommy, not me. You need to tell Sheepy that that is not a good choice."

Alrighty then. That is how I found myself kneeling on the floor of the exam room, face to face with a stuffed sheep who was desperately in need of a bath, explaining why "we don't use that word at the doctor's office", when the door opened and a nurse walked in, followed by Dr. Rob. That's right, I am talking to a stuffed sheep. Got a problem with that?

I remember when I was working band camps and teaching private music lessons that dealing with some of the parents was the hardest part of the job. "My kid wouldn't do ____________." (insert bad behavior of your choice here.) There was always a handful of parents who would beat out the constant anthem of "Not my kid." Now I can join those ranks. It wasn't my kid yelling "poop!" throughout the doctor's office. It was his stuffed sheep. That is my story, and I am sticking to it.

matthew and sheepy taking a break during last summer's vacation to kentucky