You wouldn’t figure tons of potty-borne humor is flying from those delicate little lips these days.
Well, it is. “It’s about poop,” she’ll scream, laughing herself silly. “Poop, I tell you. Poop!!!” And it’s also about pee-pee, and tooting, and burping, and her butt.
Always with her butt.
I thought I had a little girl. A delicate little lady-in-the-making. But apparently I’ve birthed an extra in a Farrelly Brothers film.
Might help if I could remain stern when I tell her to knock it off with the poop talk.
Instead, Madame Gross Out’s wild giggle is rendering me pretty childish too.
I can’t help myself. I know I should. But I just can’t do it.
Expecting a call from preschool anyday now