It was a normal day in the life of a single mum. I woke up, at 6am to pour Rice Krispies into a bowl and switch on the dreaded CBeebies. I made a coffee that could have fooled anyone in Java to give myself some rocket fuel for the day. My potty training toddler wet himself serval times and I felt like giving up on it all and stuffing him into a nappy. I carried on nonetheless, the washing machine filling up like a chomping metal mouth with urine soaked clothes. I considered just letting my son run around without anything on his bottom half and then I decided against it because I didn't want my carpets to smell of wee. There was one success, he managed to see on the toilet in time and I felt like I had just invented the iPod. Triumph! Somewhere around ten o clock I decided to clean the house from top to bottom, as my mother was coming over later to babysit. Yes I had a date, I was nervous. Two dates in and things were going swimmingly, he was courteous, funny and we hadn't so much as kissed. Very high school, considering he was three years my junior he hadn't long left secondary education . I hadn't informed the handsome Texan picking me up that I had children, it just hadn't come up .... I felt like this should be the date that I told him, after all it is a rather important detail of my life. In any case I was rather enjoying this teen movie courtship, whilst playing the role of my childless alter ego. So I cleaned, I cut up cucumber, I sang along to disgraceful children's television tunes and washed soaking wet tracksuit bottoms all whilst planning how I would transform, much like Cinderella, into something dateable by six o clock. I didn't want to get changed until the last minute because well.... stains. A splatter of bolgenaise here, a spray of Ribena there ... it was far too risky. My mother arrived and I proceeded to shower and put my make-up on. The dressing gown covered goblin of earlier times had metamorphosed into something passably attractive. My hair was clean, I had mascara on and I no longer looked like the guy who opens doors in Frankenstein movies whilst saying "master". Only the spell would wear off at midnight, when I had to come home and relive my mother of her babysitting duties. I chose a loose fitting grey jumper with an open back, tight jeans and put my hair up(I had planned on curling it but time was of the essence). My mother and I got into a squabble about a strange stain on my wall and due to my nerves I decided I would go down to my local bar and wait for my date there. I wasn't exactly going to bicker with my mother about the best way to clean a wall at that moment. I grabbed my bag and headed for the door, my mother was shouting my name repeatedly and I ignored her. "See you later Mum seriously!" I was almost at the door when my mum leapt up and followed me. I thought this was a bit dramatic seeing as it's perfectly normal for us to bicker. "WAIT!!!" She grabbed my arm. She pulled at my bag and lifted it off my shoulder. It was a baby pink bag, in a moment it became abundantly clear why she had been shouting after me. On the soft shell pink of my pretty handbag was a very large, ugly brown piece of actual human feceaes stuck to the side. Now it was up close to my face I could smell it, and it had been wiped across my jeans. "OH MY GOD." My phone pinged, he was outside right at that moment. I didn't have a dog, in fact I had told him I didn't like them. There was no way I could have ever explained this. It just doesn't happen to people. Great topic over dinner , "So why do you have shit on your bag?" Imagine if he had smelled it in the car? Would he think I had toilet problems? Or that was just my natural smell? What would I have done? Thrown it out of the window? Just thrown the whole bag?! My mother and I hurried upstairs and I emptied the contents of my handbag into another one while she wiped hurriedly at my jeans with a cloth and some fairy liquid. I had a damp stain on my leg. No matter, it was dark. I made her smell it probably no less than six times. I sprayed perfume on it and checked myself in the mirror. My mother and I couldn't stop laughing. I would smile throughout the date at the thought of it, it didn't help that the pasta I ordered looked a bit like it belonged in a toilet. Is was almost a comedic sign from above. While I cursed my son for almost causing me to take a bag on a hot date that was accessorised with excrement, I was also slightly proud that he had obviously tired to shit IN something. So that was a start.