Once upon a time there was a princess. Her name was Princess Poops-in-the-Tub for that is what she liked to do. Hardly a bath time went by without the princess pooping in the tub. One night, the king was giving Princess Poops-in-the-Tub her bath. The princess was playing with toy ducks and splashing about in the water. Suddenly, she squatted, grunted a most princessey grunt, and did what she likes to do best. Princess Poops-in-the-Tub had pooped out several very princessey poop balls. The poop balls floated and bobbed. The patient and noble king tried valiantly to scoop out the poop balls with the designated poop scooping device**. And although the king is good at many things, it seems that he needs some practice with poop scooping. Or so thought Queen Who-is-Almost-Always-Right. While the king concentrated on cornering a particularly princessey poop ball, another, rogue poop ball drifted closer and closer to the princess. Unbeknown to the King, the poop ball got a little too close to Princess Poops-in-the-Tub. She screamed. She stood up. She began to panic. More screaming. Some thrashing. An attempt to climb out of the tub. The king, in an effort to calm the princess down, said, “It’s just poop. It came out of your butt.” The princess’s eyes got wide. Huge. She paused for a moment to suck down more air — the calm before the storm. Then, EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEeee! Apparently, It came out of your butt was the wrong thing to say. That’s right people, Princess Poops-in-the-Tub is afraid of her own poop.
* I happily dedicate this post to my cousin Lane (Hi Lane!) who does not have kids, enjoys this blog, and often comments, “Gosh you sure do write a lot about poop!”
** Yes, we have a designated poop scooping device. Welcome to our life.