it's about that time again...

... for another blog post about poop. Yeah, it's been a while. But honestly, poop is a major part of my life. Between the baby and the toddler, I think I'm elbow deep in poopy diapers fourteen thousand times a day. (Okay, maybe a bit of hyperbole there... just a bit...). For that six word memoir, I think I could also have written:

talking about poop, all day long

Or maybe:

poop is my life, it seems

Or maybe:

"Another poopy diaper?" I ask again.

Okay, I think I'm getting carried away with this.

But on the poopy track (gross image...), I just had to share an exchange I had with the toddler today that made me laugh a true, guttural laugh for the first time in a while. I was playing with the baby on the floor with him lying on his back and me on my knees leaning over him, tickling and giggling together. The toddler was playing with us, alternately shoving her face into the baby's face and climbing on my back. This is embarrassing to admit to all the world (or the 5 of you who read my silly posts), but I'm a bit of a gassy person. ('A bit' meaning terribly and constantly, of course). The position that I was sitting in aroused some gas in me, and since I was in the privacy of my own home with only two munchkins as my company, I let it out.

The toddler, who I made sure was not in the 'line of fire' when I let loose, comes right in my face and asks, "Poopy, Mommy?"

I respond, "No baby, just a farty." (If you add 'y' to the end of any word, it makes it quite alright to use with a toddler...).

She looks at me with a clearly skeptical expression and states, "No. I check." She immediately turns around, grabs the back of my jeans waistband, and pulls it out while getting up close for a quick peek.

Can you tell how I often check her diaper for poops? Yeah, she's my little monkey.