See that little Lincoln Log right there on the rocking chair? Every once in awhile I spot those lying around the house and I think, "Oh no, one of the kids has finally poo'd on the floor." Even though this has never happened before and my children are innocent. I believe this is a common thought of motherhood, but now it has been exacerbated by my Cabin Girl status in where I think about poo more than the average person. I work with it twice as much as the average person. And now have come to fear it and see it where I shouldn't, a risk I took when signing on to scrub toilets as a profession.
Diagnosis: Fecal Matter Mania.
The next stage of FMM is when you become so used to the poo that your mind does not stop to distinguish between a log and a (for lack of a better word) log. Beware the squishy log!
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