A couple days ago, I noticed a grotesque odor emanating from the trunk of my car. I did the only thing I could. I told my husband that he had to clean it out (after all, what else is a hubby for?). The stench dissipated after everything was removed, but we still couldn't find the source. Could there be some old turkey burgers, escaped from a miscreant grocery bag, laying around somewhere? Who knew, I was just thankful that my car was now smelling as fresh as a bottle of Febreeze.
This momentary happiness abandoned me, however, when I came to discover that the funk had taken up residence in my house.
What could possibly be causing this offensive smell?
Finally, we narrowed down the search. It had to be coming from the stroller- it was the only thing that had gone from my trunk directly into the house. As I moved in closer, my nose told me I was correct. I had won! (but, somehow I didn't exactly feel like a winner).
Was it the tires? Had I inadvertently rolled through something that was caught in the treads?
No- that wasn't it...
My eyes were drawn suddenly to the pocket under the seat. I held my breath.
There- among the nest of baby sweatshirts and extra diapers: a sippy cup.
Still filled to the brim with milk.