...when you're out shopping, and have been for quite some time, and you glance down and realize there is a smear of something crusty and brown and suspect-looking across your t-shirt.

Your first thought is FECES!! I AM WALKING AROUND WITH BABY SHIT ON MY CLOTHES AND NO ONE SAID ANYTHING!! 

The possibility is very real, friends. The likelihood that there's poop on you is pretty high. You've been toting a kid around who's full to the gills with applesauce and green beans and isn't wearing pants. As Wyclef says so eloquently, "What what, say what, say what, anything can happen."

Your first instinct is to scratch some of the offending material off yourself and sniff it while running a quick mental replay of everything you've had to eat since getting dressed, hoping, praying, there was something brown in the mix.

And you do it. Covert-like, amongst the kitchen wares, totally stealth, totally casual. Nope, definitely not scraping shit off myself and sniffing it. MOVE ALONG.

Not poop.

(It was chocolate Popsicle. I am so relieved.)