{"id":117,"date":"2025-07-29T06:05:15","date_gmt":"2025-07-29T06:05:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/blog.winniemuriuki.co.ke\/?p=117"},"modified":"2025-09-04T08:24:56","modified_gmt":"2025-09-04T08:24:56","slug":"a-solemn-farewell-my-daughters-croc-fell-into-the-pit-latrine","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/winniemuriuki.co.ke\/blog\/2025\/07\/29\/a-solemn-farewell-my-daughters-croc-fell-into-the-pit-latrine\/","title":{"rendered":"A Solemn Farewell \u2013 My Daughter\u2019s Croc Fell into the Pit Latrine"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

The Day Took a Turn<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

I was outside, slashing the grass near the pit latrine when my daughter walked over and casually announced, \u201cMum, I need to poop.\u201d<\/em>
Ordinarily, she uses her potty, our tried and trusted plastic throne, sitting comfortably in the house. But in that moment, the pit latrine was closer.
And I thought, \u201cWhy not? There\u2019s always a first time.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

She didn\u2019t even get to poop.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Because immediately \u2014 and I mean immediately<\/em> \u2014 her Croc fell into the pit latrine<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Just like that, gone. One second, it was on her foot; the next, it was deep in a dark, echoey hole I had no business trying to recover anything from.
I stood there frozen, slasher in hand, wondering how this was my life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n
\n\n\n\n

The Shoe That Meant More Than Rubber<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

Now, this wasn\u2019t just any shoe.
It was her first shoe.<\/strong>
Her very first pair of Crocs. She had worn it for two solid years<\/em>. It had outlived seasons, growth spurts, and most of her wardrobe. It had history. Sentiment. Soul.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And now, it was gone<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Not accidentally lost. Not outgrown and stored.
Gone into a literal toilet.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

And all because I thought I was being smart by choosing \u201cconvenience.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

The Potty Was Right There\u2026 But So Was My Miscalculation<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

As I stood frozen, the sound of the Croc\u2019s splash still ringing in my ears, I slowly turned my head toward the house.
The potty \u2014 the loyal, dependable, indoor potty \u2014 was right there. Just a few steps away.
Neither locked nor dirty. Not even broken.
Just\u2026 not as close as the latrine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

I had made a decision. A \u201cmum decision.\u201d
And just like that, I became the woman who traded two years of shoe history<\/strong> for five fewer steps.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

What I Thought I\u2019d Feel\u2026 and What Actually Happened<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

Honestly, I thought this would be a character-building moment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n


One of those things you laugh about later. That you grow from.
I expected to feel wiser. Stronger. Resilient.
Instead, I just felt like the mum who lost a shoe to a toilet for absolutely no reason.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

There was no poop. No progress. Just a traumatized child and an irrational desire to climb into the abyss and fetch a foam sandal.
But I didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Because deep down, I knew: the croc is not the same after what it has seen.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

Gone but Never Forgotten (Apparently)<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

You\u2019d think the story would end there \u2014 we mourned, we moved on, we bought new shoes. Right?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Wrong. It remained part of our conversations way after the croc fell into the pit latrine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s been months<\/strong>.
Multiple new pairs have come and gone \u2014 pink ones, sparkly ones, even some that light up and cost more than my dignity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But none<\/strong> have managed to replace The Croc That Fell<\/em>.
Every time we walk past the toilet, she stops and says with toddler-sized conviction:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n
\n

\u201cThat\u2019s where my shoe fell.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Like a tiny historian honoring her past.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She brings it up during:<\/p>\n\n\n\n