Last weekend, a puppy visited our home.
Rolly polly goodness of energetic puppy love. Pink tongue eagerly licking little girl faces. Tiny hands petting soft fur.
All wiggly and sweet.
Sounds cute, right?
After playtime, everybody went outside so the puppy could do her business. The puppy’s owner did the responsible thing and picked up the poop with a baggie and safely deposited it into the outside trash can.
Story still sounds fine, right?
Fast forward to later that afternoon.
Mia wanders by with a Cinderella glove in her hand.
Tiny. Gold. A delicate rose sewn into the cuff.
This is not strange. She loves dress up clothes and jewelry. Mia doesn’t need a special occasion to dress like a princess.
She walks downstairs and outside into the backyard to play with her sister.
So I assumed.
But it’s quiet. Too quiet.
And quiet in my house means I better go see what they are doing. Quickly.
I stop washing the dishes and walk out onto the deck.
I look over by the persimmon tree and here comes Mia.
The golden glove pulled over her right hand.
And in her right hand, a piece of dog poop from one our own dogs. Her smile is as big as the sun. Proud of her newly discovered responsibility.
I, of course, overreact and screech, “DROP THAT POOP IMMEDIATELY AND COME IN THIS HOUSE TO WASH YOUR HANDS!”
Mia drops the poop. Looking puzzled, she takes off her glove and comes into the house.
A few minutes later, little hands are sanitized and Mia is back outside. She is happily playing with Ava in the sprinkler.
And what happened to the once beautiful glove? It’s destiny was with the garbage can.
Not exactly a fairy tale ending.
So I pose the question, is there a moral to this story?
I don’t know. You tell me.