So we’re easing into our homeschool routine. Recently, in the midst of digging deep into archeology, my 3-year-old daughter abruptly said, “P.U. Who pooted?”
(My apologies for this potty talk to all my lovely Southern Belle friends.)
“I didn’t,” said her big sister.
“Did you Mommy?” asked the 3-year-old.
“No. I would have said, ‘Excuse me.’ Maybe it was you,” I told her. (The “who smelt it, dealt it” rule applies to my middle child. She frequently poots and blames it on others.)
“No, it wasn’t,” she insisted.
“Let me check,” Big Sister said. “I’ll go smell her.”
History, math, narration, Catechism. These are all fine and good, but it appears I need to add “how to act like a lady” to our homeschool curriculum as well.
I felt a little sheepish posting this after I received a kind email from a reader who shared an observation that she felt my posts had become more reflective recently and she was enjoying their tone. I thanked her for her compliment and tried to cull something meaningful from the parade of ideas sloshing about in the gray sludge in my head (which some people refer to as a brain). But it wasn’t happening. I always love to read blogs written by moms who are able to keep things intellectual. I welcome a space where there’s a dearth poop, spitup, puke, or any other hazardous waste material. However, when I attempt to stifle my impulse to divulge these things that are, I’m afraid, my daily bread, I miss out on some major catharsis. Hopefully, you can look past it.