When I was eight years old there was a party for my cousin at Willamlane Park in Springfield Oregon. The park has a large grassy ravine, with soft green grass, and all the kids decided we would all roll down the hill, as entertainment and fun while we waited for cake and ice cream. We all had a great time, then my Aunt called all the children up to the picnic table to sing Happy Birthday. All of a suddenly my dad goes, “Eww, what is that smell? Who stepped in dog crap?” we all looked around, lifting our feet and noone could find any sign of poop on their shoes. My Aunt exclaimed.“ Oh Mary look at your shirt, you must’ve rolled into a pile of it on the hill.” My face turned pale, and I shrieked,“No, I didn’t I dont have poop on me.” She walked over to me, and pulled my shirt back showing me where I had rolled into a pile of nice and fresh dog doo. I was so upset I started crying. I didn’t want to eat cake while sitting in a crappy shirt, literally speaking. This was definitely a “crappy” day. All the kids and even my dad started laughing. My aunt pulled the shirt off and grabbed a brown paper Albertsons bag, and made two holes in it for me to wear. I sniffled and sadly put my arms up wearing the bag of a shirt. I remember my dad specifically stifling his chuckles. “One day Mary, you’ll look back on this and you’ll laugh to. It may not seem like it now, but I promise you will.” About fifteen years later, I hadn’t thought of this memory in forever, and I was talking to my dad on the phone while he was in another state, and he mentioned what a crappy day he had. I bursted into laughter instantly, and he said,“What’s so funny?” I said,“Well dad, you said one day a crappy day would make me laugh. Remember when I rolled into a pile of crap?” He chuckled right along with me. Sometimes what may seem to be a horrible day, can turn into quite a hysterical memory.