At supper last night:
Robbie: What's that?
Me: That is called a pea, Robbie.
Robbie paused and looked at his plate with a confused look on his face. He pointed to a carrot sitting next to the pea.
Robbie: Poop?
Me: Er, um, no ...
In other poo-related news, I must ask: How do kids figure out that farts are funny? Robbie often follows his gas-passing with a joyous "Tooted!". We didn't teach him that, and we've never seen anybody teach him that. Is it some sort of inherent boy thing, like crashing toy cars into each other?
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When are farts NOT funny? It must be a guy thing.
Thanks for the chuckle! Some days they’re just what I need to get through.
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