Some people complain that it’s hard to get anything done when you’re chasing after a toddler but it’s not even 9am and I’ve already stepped in a human turd and pushed a pram through a dog’s dirty work. And to think, 11 months ago I would’ve only just rolled out of bed and headed into work. My productivity has gone through the roof!

I only have myself to blame for stepping in my son’s shit. I had invented a new way of changing nappies. It was set to revolutionise early parenting and the main problem I faced was deciding whether to capitalise on my discovery through “How to” books or DVDs.

My kid would always squirm during a nappy change and had put his foot in “it” on more than one occasion. I developed an unconventional technique to avoid this. I’d hoist him over my shoulder like a rocket launcher, carefully remove… anyway I can’t say too much or any book deal will be scuppered. We’re still ironing out some kinks with the method, what with my kid shitting mid-change and painting the bathroom tiles brown more than once. This morning was one of those times – and I stepped in a rogue turd.

After the incident, I was desperate to get out of the house. I buckled the kid into his pram and we headed off into the world. I’m not sure when I pushed the pram through a massive dog turd. I guess I only have myself to blame for that, too. In my defence, my fake Bugaboo pram has a couple of blind spots and I hadn’t had a coffee yet.

By the time I spotted the poo making one of its orbits, it had picked up a few leaves, a couple of twigs and a Paddle Pop stick. It was a big turd. Now that I consider it, I wonder if it was actually a dog turd at all.

I won’t go into the clean-up operation – some of you might be reading this over breakfast. It wasn’t a pleasant experience. At the time, I wasn’t proud of what I had achieved. If anything, I was overcome by sense of shame and embarrassment.

But later that day, pushing my now-clean pram through the streets and smiling at strangers, I started to swell with pride. Knowing they were ignorant of where my foot had stepped and where that pram had rolled made my feel like I was guarding an intriguing secret. I was like Bruce Wayne, if Batman cleaned up nuggets instead of the mean streets of Gotham City.

Now there’s no way I’ll let a couple of turds bring me down. I tell myself I’m a winner, as I hold my head high and gaze straight ahead (with regular glances down, to make sure I keep clear of dog shit).

Image by DaiRut, used under this licence.