I find poop on the floor. My son shakes his head and says “bad doggie.” It looked small enough so I cleaned it up and scolded the dog.
Then I see more on the stairs going up. My son shakes his head again. “Bad doggie.” I clean up the poop again. Up three more stairs, more poop, only now slightly larger.
I turn to my son and smile. He is laughing. “Bad doggie,” he says.
I get to the top of the stairs and see a buffalo pile of poop. I turn to my son and laugh.
“Bad Alex,” he replies.
