We have a phenomenon in our house we like to call "poop-tastrophes". It is when Buffy III's poop ends up somewhere it is not supposed to be. Use your imagination.
So we had a poop-tastrophe this afternoon, and after stripping the bedding and an unscheduled bath, we were good to go. We had dinner. We played. It was typical.
Cut to about 2 hours later.
Mr Buffy: What's on your shirt?
Me: What are you talking about?
Mr Buffy: Look. At. Your. Shirt.
Me: I have no idea what that is.
Mr Buffy: Oh, I think you know what that is. How did you not see that?!?
Me: Dude. I can't see anything below my boobs.
I had shit on my shirt for almost 2 HOURS and didn't notice because my boobs were in the way.
Yes. This really just happened.
