In the passage way outside Jeremy’s bedroom was, what could only be, a turd. Small, perhaps 1-2cm long, and possible as thick was a lead pencil, but most definitely, a turd. I was bemused as to how this came to be. Yes, we had geckos, ugly (although many think they’re cute) transparent pinky white things, with big eyes and padded feet that would walk on the ceilings leaving me in fear that they would fall off and land on me when I was sleeping, or worse still, get a fright that would cause them to lose their tails! And yes, geckos poop all over the place, but not turds like this! Nor was it a human turd! I went into the bedroom, looking curiously on the floor for more evidence and there, boldly sat by the bookcase, looking straight at me, was the culprit. A small, green, very cute frog! This was the first of many that I picked up to re-locate, and he calmly allowed me to explain the procedure – I was just going to pick him up and take him outside – and there he was cupped between my hands, quite still (mesmerised with fright probably!) while I took him and placed him in the garden. But not before he weed on my hand! I still remember the sense of not really having anything in my hand at all, he (?) was light, soft and dry, and kind of amazing.
So yes, I did tease my very small son about this, and so he became my very precious, Little Turd.
I do have to add that he didn’t like that nickname very much, and used to tell me, ‘I’m not a little turd, I’m Jemery’. How cruel was I 🙁