I was about to burst into tears an hour ago when trying to remember how to do managerial accounting, so instead I asked George if he wanted to go for a walk down the street to buy candy. On the way back up, we passed Jan-Kees's house and I could see him in the window, studying at his desk. We yelled at him and he came to the balcony and said he'd come down for a few minutes.
He came out the front door carrying a small plastic bag, which reminded me of when people in Manhattan carry bags around to pick up after their dogs, so I said, "What's that? A bag of poop?" And he said, "Actually, yes. A bag of poop."
These are the perils of having a one-year-old.