He's Poo-ed in My Shoes!
Not only does she buy a pair of shoes so unmentionable that someone has actually given them to a charity-shop (and lets face it, how bad do shoes have to be before a woman will actually give them away) but has spent probably more than they are worth getting them re-soled at the local cobblers.
And now this.
I dare not look. But I do. He has, indeed, poo-ed in her shoes.
I then make a number of mistakes that I shall catalogue below:
1: I do not immediately grab her in a bear-hug and quietly, fiercely, whisper into her ear 'It's all right, it'll be fine. It will. Honestly. We'll be O.K. Everything will be all right. We can fix this. Oh yes we can.'
2: I laugh for a bit. (It was quite funny).
3: I point out that really, although the need to sooth his nappy-rash is important, letting him wonder about without one on will only really lead to one of two results. Sadly it was two, but she should really know this by now.
4: I also point out that, given her Tired Mam-to-shoe-ratio, as opposed to the normal person-to shoe-ratio, although such an event were by no means unavoidable, it was much higher than the norm. Typewriters and monkeys. If you've got far more than the average pairs of shoes, the chances of someone shitting in them has to be higher. Much higher if that person is only one and does not have a nappy on.
None of this goes down too well.
Logic vs. shoes: shoes will always win.
Do not, gentleman readers, attempt to fight it. You will lose.