On our way home from Coronado Island we stopped at one our of favorites, The Yogurt Mill - my all-time favorite frozen yogurt place. I've been going there since I was a little girl and it hasn't changed a bit. It's delicious, it's cheap, it's full of nostalgia. On this particular trip to Yogurt Mill sweet Jacob had been chewing/regurgitating/enjoying some chocolate treat in his car seat when I returned to the car with my coconut/strawberry swirl with carob and yogurt chips in hand. That's when I noticed Jacob's hand. At first I thought it was just an extension of what was covering his face and clothes but then I realized that it had an entirely different odor to it (yes, I smelled it. I am a mother). Now in my almost seven years of being a mother I have never had the unique experience of dealing with a child playing with poop (letting out a HUGE sigh of relief). This is the closest I have come to it, and I never want to have to deal with it again. It was messy. It was smelly. And it did not mix well with my Yogurt Mill perfection. Luckily I got a big enough serving of yogurt that I was able to eat leftovers for the next two days sans poop disaster.
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