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Saturdays are my day to sleep in.  My husband always wakes up with the kids and I catch up on the sleep that I missed out on during the week.  I love Saturdays!

This morning I woke up and my husband told me that he felt he felt he should disclose something.  I was a bit hesitant to hear what he wanted to “disclose.”  Was he looking at nude pictures on internet?  Could he have made a grave mistake in judgement while on his business trip?  Oh, I hate it when people tell me they feel the need to give a “full disclosure.”

So he proceeds to tell me that he found a puddle in the middle of the kitchen floor… at which time I look up and our big wet spot on the ceiling.  I have a sinking feeling in my stomach now.  Is he going to tell me that our new washer is now leaking?  No, he goes on to tell me that the thought had crossed his mind too, but that was not it because he checked the spot and it was not wet.

His next thought maybe the boys spilled something on the floor. My kids have been trying to be more independent.  Thus, once or twice a week  while they are trying to be independent pouring their own juice, we find a puddle of juice on the floor.  You see, they want to be independent with pouring the juice, but if they spill… they don’t feel the need to independently clean it up.  My husband thought this was the case, so before giving my son a riot act he thinks he needs to know that is indeed what it is.

So, he tells me he decides to stick his finger in the puddle and taste it to find out what was spilled.  Unfortunately, it was not spilled juice.

It was dog pee.

Me: How do you know what dog pee tastes like?

My Husband: It tastes like it smells.  It is incredibly disgusting.

Me: Was it yellow when you cleaned it up?

My Husband: [exasperated sigh] Yes, it was yellow.  It was definitely dog pee.

Me: And you put it in your mouth?

My Husband:  Yep, and right after I was like…[pretending to wash out mouth under the sink in our kitchen]

Me:  Well, at least you can supposedly drink pee, if you need to.  Of course, usually that refers to your own pee and not a dog’s pee.

He endorses drinking your own piss, right?


My Husband:  [slightly annoyed look] Still, it was disgusting.

So, the moral of the story… Don’t taste things before cleaning them up. Think about it what if I tasted the brown stuff that my daughter had gotten into at the book festival. It could have been chocolate, but it was not. This post is a public service announcement of sorts… learn from it.

At first, my husband did not want me to share this lovely story with you guys. Then he posted a status about this event and I gave him a hard time and he told me I could write a post about it.  He is such a great guy!  I don’t know how many people would not mind their wives sharing a story about them tasting dog pee.

Feel free to give him a lot of love in the comments!