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Poop Patrol

All parents have big dreams for their children, so you can imagine my pride when I found out that our daughter is the self-appointed Poop Patrolwoman of her classroom.   Instead of biting bullies* today, Skye sunk her teeth into a new job, insisting on patting the other kids’ backs to help them fall asleep at naptime and checking their diapers to see if they had “poo-pooed.”

Yeah.  You see, I had taught her how to change Elmo’s diaper in hopes that she would become my Poo-Poo assistant when Baby Freedom arrives.  Now she’s sticking her hand down all the kids’ pants.  I just hope she doesn’t get job burnout before the baby is here.  Or served a restraining order.

She also used her mouth for good when she came home today, comforting poor Lucy with a kiss.

This is where I admit what shamefully bad kitty parents we have been the past four months, allowing Lucy’s mat-prone coat to get out of control — to the point that we had to take her to the groomer’s for a Lion Cut this afternoon.  I have had Persians and Himalayans most of my life, and never before have I had a cat’s fur morph into Bob Marley’s head like hers did.  For those who are unfamiliar with this feline hairstyle, “Lion Cut” loosely translates to “making your cat look utterly ridiculous.”  The only fur remaining on her tiny body is on her head, feet and the end of her tail.  I know you want a full-body picture of Lucy so you can laugh your ass off, er… I mean, express your sympathy; however, she has been so sweet about the whole humiliating debacle that I didn’t think it would be fair to her.  Not until I get my hands on a body wig** of some sort for her, at least.  Now that would be dignified.

*The Biting Update:  Thanks for your comments, e-mails and suggestions.  Mr. Candy had a heart-to-heart with the head teacher today and we’ve learned that she has bitten twice (but not today) — and, contrary to what I was originally told, both incidences were, in fact, in self-defense from boys pushing her down and taking her toys.  Obviously, biting is still unacceptable, so we are teaching her more constructive ways to protect herself from the toy thieves.  Like Tasering.  And threatening to make them listen to Kim Kardashian’s “singing” if they don’t keep their hands off her plastic train.

**Fingers crossed Robin Williams and Alec Baldwin are generous enough to donate some of their body hair to our Locks of Lucy Foundation.

Because sharing is caring, as I tell my kids. (Except my wine. Never my wine.)
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Candy Kirby is the founder of The Laughing Stork and a professional fun-maker who will never stop chasing her lifelong dream: to find the Pomeranian or porn star after whom her parents must have named her. A humor columnist for Disney, Nickelodeon, Scary Mommy, Reductress and Redbook, she also used to be a staff writer for the soap opera, The Bold and the Beautiful, where she penned many scripts featuring prolonged heated stares and countless “Who’s the Daddy?” story lines. Candy lives in Los Angeles with her husband, two young kids and three rescue Persian cats, the latter of whom are the real brains behind this operation (so send all complaints to them).

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