Just because he can't herd sheep doesn't mean he isn't useful

In preparation for our theoretical vegetable garden in the spring, we've started a couple of compost piles in the far corners of the yard. Nothing too stinky, as far as compost goes, because we're not putting any animal byproducts into the heap. Just grass clippings and twigs and weeds and non-raw cooking scraps.

But, in the far corners of the yard as they are, I'm not always inclined to make the trek with a bagful of liquefied cucumbers or crusts of bread. So what I usually do is let Cody eat the edible things, rationale being that one of his many uses is making compost through his butt.


He also comes in handy when ... other ... types of cleanup are required.


Do I know this is going to happen after every feeding? Yes. Do I turn a blind eye rather than fight the inevitable? Absolutely.

Typical scenario: I get through feeding Ethan, wipe his face with the bib, then announce to the household that I'm going to be taking the empty baby food container and dirty spoon into the kitchen. Then when I get back, Cody has the "I've done something naughty" look on his face, Ethan has the "That's gross" look on his face, and I feign shock then look disapprovingly upon the scene.

Does allowing this (or tolerating it) make me a bad mother? I prefer not to address that question, and instead steer you toward the thought that I'm actually an A-Number-One pet owner.