All Pooped Out

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Saturday night after our Halloween madness, Reed and I took the kids to Chick-fil-a to let them get rid of their candy high on the playscape. Olivia kept complaining of a stomach ache which usually means she needs to poop. I took her to the restroom where she attempted to convince me that her stomach ache was gone and she no longer needed to poop. Obviously anxious to get back to the playscape she had no time for bowel movements. I wouldn’t budge though. Poop or we go home, that was the deal. So in a desperate measure she used my very own secret technique against me…the talking inanimate object. You know what I mean…the broccoli on the fork that’s waving in front of their mouth that says in a high pitched voice, “Come on Olivia…eat me!” The toys in the corner beckon, “Oliiiiivia…put me away!” Or the warm bubbly bath invites, “Come on in Olivia, let’s play!”

Olivia sat there on that Chick-fil-a toilet and with her most serious expression she dared to say, “MOM! I don’t have to poop, listen to the poop, he’s saying ‘I don’t wanna come out, I like it in here!’” I stood there looking blankly at the roll of unused toilet paper and after reflecting for a moment I could only agree with her…I heard him loud and clear afterall, that poop meant business and he wasn’t going anywhere. I shrugged my shoulders and said, “OK then. I’m convinced! Let’s go play!”

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