Well, Poopcasso was at it again yesterday. No, not playing in his own diaper. We're past the diaper age (thankfully). This time, he insisted he had to go help Daddy feed the cows. It's been raining a lot. He was trying to climb the steps to the hay bin and had mud on his shoes. He slipped, fell, and went down in a mud puddle. The story should end there, but this is Daniel we're talking about. He got up, panicked when he saw the cows headed toward him (which, they were headed for the hay in the barn, not him, but I'm sure it looked like they were headed for him) and tried to run away. This resulted in slipping in a pile of cow poop and going face first into another mud puddle.
He arrived on my doorstep screaming at the top of his lungs. He was brown from head to toe. And smelly. I stripped him on the porch and took him straight to the tub. After scubbing him down, I had to scrub the tub. I mean, he was nasty.
His clothes and shoes went into the wash. Most of them survived. His formerly white socks are a total loss.