Quid Poop Quo

Fans, it used to be that we would post most nights.  Now, the week often ends with us considering a pile of scraps of paper that we've snatched up because it was at hand--the back of an envelope, a Post-it, a daily doings sheet--on to which we've scribbled something one of the bambini has said, or a snippet of a larger conversation.  This Sunday, we bring you news from the back of an envelope, of something that happened last Saturday evening.

The bambini were getting ready to bathe which means they were brushing their teeth and using the potty, all while naked, of course.  So it happened that Joe suddenly appeared in the doorway between the hallway and the living room, sobbing, to say, "Clara did something rude to me.  She flushed my poopie down the toilet when I wanted to do it."

There are bigger bummers in life, but not really when you're almost five.  Really, your sister should read your mind and know that you wanted to flush your own poopie down the toilet because she would feel the exact same way if she stopped to consider it.

Peace was restored when a deal was brokered in which Clara permitted Joe to flush her poopie down the toilet.  (Thank God she had to go poopie.)