Soccer with dad

Or should I say fútbol?

Anyway, someone set up a kid-sized Little Tykes goal in the courtyard of our apartment complex and Enzo has been all about playing ball out there.

He went outside with dad for a while this afternoon and came back in sweaty and elated. His mouth opened, and I knew I was going to get an earful about how fun it was to play ball. But no.

"I saw a dog poo." What?! I thought that he meant that someone walked their dog while they were out. That wasn't it. Someone had walked their dog and they saw the pile on the ground.

He talked about the dog poo more than the actual ball-playing. Does my son live such a sad life that the apparent highlight of his day was seeing dog poo outside?

Parting wisdom from Enzo: "We don't eat dog poo."