Anyone with kids knows that Sunday is a day of rest in some respects but not others, especially if you're really trying to pay attention to whomever is teaching from the pulpit. Almost every effort at a rejuvenating Sabbath seems thwarted by children who act mortally wounded by our momentarily divided attention. Parents in this situation could persuasively argue that they feel figuratively pooped on.
The phrase took on a different meaning for me when I handed our baby girl to my wife and noticed poop on my suit pants. I've heard of it happening to fathers before, but in my almost four years as a father, it's never happened to me. I guess this is sort of a fatherly badge of courage--the brown badge of courage (sorry Stephen Crane).
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