Is it when you lean over your baby’s pushchair in Sainsburys and smell poo?
Is it when you take said baby to change him?
Is it when you discover that the poo *may* have travelled further than any other poo known to mankind
When you realise it’s gone through his dungarees?
Or into the pushchair?
And you don’t have a spare set of clothes
Maybe when you have to push him around Sainsburys screaming in nothing but a nappy and his cardigan?
At the very least when you put the soiled footmuff from the pushchair in the washing machine?
No! It’s time for a glass of wine when, after all of that you check the time left on the washing machine, it says 30 minutes and your eyes drift to the cap full of detergent that you forgot to put the in the washing machine.
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