Yard Presents

So today, I had one of the best architectural client meetings I’ve ever had.   It started out like normal with a husband & wife and their 3 year old boy who we’ll call Jacob (to protect the innocent).

We met for about 1.5 hours and the meeting was probably very average.   Their house was very nice and they had some nice modern art and were very nice people.   At the end of 45 minutes we all gathered around the dining room table and began sketching around.   We talked about the price of the renovation the time it would take and fairly normal topics considering the purpose of my visit. 

So when Jacob picked up his plastic chain saw, I thought it was weird that he would have the courage or permission to be allowed to go outside by himself.   His parents were equally concerned.   They commented on how he had never demonstrated this area of ‘free-will’ before.  

 

They looked out the window in front of us and he seemed to be doing fine.   He was banging the plastic chainsaw around but for the most part he was being quite the little explorer.    He banged around on the garage door a bit and the noise reverberated around the dining room.    We all laughed.    His father commented, “looks like Jacob has started the demolition early”. 

We all went back to our conversation and continued to discuss the plans for the new master-bedroom.   About 10 minutes later, we all look out the window as we mention the quality of the existing windows.   We look about 6 feet into the yard to see little Jacob running around with his pants off, in the yard, taking a nice arcing piss.

His mother, quite horrified, runs out into the yard and orders him to put his pants back on.   Young Jacob needs some help, but quickly gets his training pants and jeans back on.    His mother, calmed by his compliance, comes back to the table and after a bit of laughing, our discussion continues.  

We keep talking for another 5 minutes when we again look out the window.  This time Jacob has removed his pants.   In a very athletic move, his mother sprints for the front door, porch and finally the yard.   Jacob has decided to poop in the front yard.   She grabs him, shakes him like she’s trying to knock the ash off of a burning cigarette in an attempt to dislodge any dangling feces and quickly runs him back into the house, past our table and into the bathroom to clean him up. 

 

Somehow, after this our conversation seems to lose focus and it’s time for me to go. 

  

I say my goodbyes and as I leave the house, the missus warns me not to step in the poop.  She points to the location where she has buried the poop with leaves.

   

As yet, I don’t know whether I’ll get the job.