This one involves poop.

One time, my cat took a dump on the rug over near my toddler's play pen. I was twenty feet away in the kitchen, washing dishes. I was under the mistaken impression that if anything bad was going on between my kid and my mother-in-law, that I'd be able to hear it and intervene in a timely manner. Things changed after this incident, that's for sure.

My toddler, being a bright kid, knew that poop did not belong on the rug. She also knew that you don't touch poop. So since she was at that phase where she wanted to be helpful, she took a couple of toys and used them to scoop up the poop and attempted to bring it to me over in the kitchen. Of course the poop fell off the toys about halfway across the floor. This is where my mother-in-law comes in.

So while I'm there in the kitchen giving myself dishpan hands, my mother-in-law is asking my toddler why she doesn't want to eat the chocolate cookies. She picks one up off the floor so she can, I assume, attempt to shove it in my daughter's face. Of course, my daughter is having nothing to do with the poop. Mother-in-law now realizes these are probably not cookies, and calls for help. The reality is dawning on her and taking her to a Bad Place.

This last picture here is what I walk in on. Mother-in-law hunched over, a turd in her hand, my daughter looking at me unhappily.

"What is this?" she asks, uncertainty causing her voice to waver.

Slowly I look at it, and reply, "It looks like poop."

That was my favorite part. She wanted to fling it away from her and probably scream. She has germaphobic tendencies that must have been screeching in her head. She wouldn't let my husband keep goldfish as a child because of the "germs" in the tank. And now she's got a steaming pile of cat poop in her hand. She knows that she shouldn't be tossing poop back down onto the floor, but she doesn't know what she should be doing. Her hand is quivering.

"What should I do??" she asks, panic in her voice.

"Throw it out in the garbage can and go wash your hands." Rocket science.

I didn't see her for the rest of the day. I cleaned up the rug and the toys and my daughter and got back to the business of the day. I gave my cat a big pat on the head. I called my parents to snicker at her horrible experience. When my husband got home, she told him she couldn't get the smell off her hand no matter how many times she washed it.