A Ghost Poop

The other morning I walk into Emery’s room to find her butt-ass naked running around. She excitedly yells, “DADDY, I POOPED! I POOPED!” like I’m supposed to give her an award or something.

We'd been working on potty training, and she's taking a liking of taking off her diapers, but she's never done this.

Immediately, I was horrified as the realization hit that there was likely poop smeared somewhere in her room—please, not the carpet, I screamed internally!!!

I began to investigate as she continued running around yelling, “I POOPED! I POOPED!” There had to be a diaper somewhere, but I found nothing in her room.

I checked her bathroom. Nothing. The trash cans, the living room, the guest bedroom, her playroom. Nope. I searched my bedroom and bathroom. Nada. WHERE WAS THE POOP, EMERY?!?!

If you're wondering, she definitely pooped because I had to wipe her butt.

It’s been TWO WEEKS now and the ghost poop hasn’t appeared. I have nightmares of the day I find it because it will no longer be a poopy diaper but a poopy monster angrily stinking up my house.

Kids, man.