This morning at the park, the twins and I strolled inside the partitioned park (Natalie and Julia in the wagon) when we saw a mother and 4-year-old daughter reading quietly under the slide.
Natalie joined them, sat there, and I said hi to the mother, but she silently got up and walked outside. What a churlish individual, I thought, as I began to do 200 bar dips.
Ten minutes later, the daughter assumed a sour face and left. The snooty child takes after her mother, I said to myself. Then I realized I was living in a fog: My daughter Natalie had pooed her pants and had an actual oil spill blow-out. I would have reacted the same had I been in their shoes.
So there I was doing bar dips, scorning an innocent mother and her daughter, with my daughter covered in filth.
After changing Natalie's diaper, I looked in the mirror and pimp-slapped myself . . . twice.
Always know the situation.
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