24 March 2011

Where does poop come from?

Wednesday night is daddy night, as Kim hits her workout class and I pick Kate up from daycare. She's not always happy to see me, but we've found that bribing her with a treat will get her settled down, and taking the "horsey way" home (where she can see, what else? horses) always leads to smiles and giggles.

So last night, after the apple-cinnamon bar, after the horses, we pull in the garage. We go upstairs. I tell Kate I'm going to go get the mail, do you want to come with me? No. So I head outside.

By the time I'm back in, she's ripped off her pull-up, changed her pants for a skirt, and meets me at the door. "Going. outside. for. minute." What? I say. "Going. outside. just. minute."

She closes the door in my face, leaving me standing in the living room.

I look through the window, and she's pulling down her skirt. I decide to intervene, and open the door. "C'mon back inside. Let's go cook dinner!"

She comes back inside. I go to the kitchen, she goes to her play kitchen. Within a minute: "Uh, oh. Ucky." There's a puddle on the floor.

We go to the potty, and I sit her down. Nothing. "Not poopin'" she tells me. OK ...

She runs down the hall, wearing nothing but a shirt, and I chase after. We go to her room. I ask her if she wants a diaper or a pull up. "Diap" she says. I change her.

All of a sudden, she's pointing. "Poop. Monkey. Poop. Monkey." What?! She's pointing at the small nugget of poop that's on her monkey rug next to her crib.

"Kate!" I say. "Where did that poop come from?"

She points a finger at her diaper. Then she looks up at me and says, "My butt."

1 comment:

G13 said...

LOL...well it did!