Turns out mine is canine incontinence.
The dog just destroyed the art room. Never seen the likes of it. Such. A. Mess. It rivals our famous "river of poo" story.
So instead of Anders & I making banana bars w/ cream cheese icing (sorry Debbie, no treats this weekend!), I get to clean up dog s**t from the art room's finely grooved pine wood floors and Anders gets to make funny observational comments about: the smell, the dog, Mommy's language, the state of the art room, poop in general. Which is actually sort of a high point for him because everyone knows how funny poop is to a 3-year-old.
After my thorough cleaning and bleaching, I have the holy trio of Lysol, Febreze and Slatkin's home fragrance at the ready.
Doggy Depends are next.