“Poop.”

“Poop.”

You were in the bathtub and Daddy swept you out, and placed you on your potty seat on the toilet.

Water dripping, you said it again.

“Poop.”

“The front, or the back?” I asked, pointing. “This is where the poop comes from. This is where you tinkle.”

“Poop.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not happening. Are you going to tinkle?”

“No,” you said, smiling. You’ve been saying “no” a lot, lately.

Back in the tub, a few minutes later. Pointing between your legs, you said, “gas.”

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