This summer while I was in St. Louis with my family and our kids were running around together playing, the word poopie was thrown out a lot. It was started by Elissa, my sister Betsy's daughter who is three. Now, I realized pretty early on that at three, there are very few things that are more insulting than being called poopie. Probably because they were just removed from diapers when they were often literally poopie.
In fact, Bianca would come tell me, "Mom, Elissa (or Aidan) called me poopie."
Well, at the time, my sister Susannah and I were reading this book called The Four Agreements about people only saying mean things when they're dealing with their own issues of inadequacy, so I responded, "Don't worry. He (or she) is dealing with his/her own issues of feeling poopie." She shrugged, ran off playing again. It didn't bother her that much--she's not three. And I sit back and laugh about it now, but at the time I never wanted to hear that silly word again.
Fast forward three months ahead, Bianca's carpool just started up again. So, she heads out the door around 7:30 a.m. (Eric usually takes her to school), so carpooling leaves Eric extra time to linger lazily in bed. Yesterday morning, he was listening to the radio in bed. It was the manly morning show on 1280 The Zone, a specific thing they do called "Gay or not gay." I guess people email in things they're not sure are acceptable for manly men and Eric thinks it's hilarious. I admit, it is pretty funny. It has this really funny song that goes along with it--gay or not gay.
Yesterday, Eric emailed in something--about a certain Brother-in-Law who had free movie tickets and brought along a friend. This friend said he would buy the snacks, then brought in a soda with two straws. Eric is so pleased with himself for thinking to send this in. We'll see if his story gets on the radio next Thursday.
Anyway, this morning, carpool again left Eric with a lot of spare time. He kept singing that "gay or not gay" song. Portia woke up, so I brought her into bed and smelled her bottom. You know, to see if she was "poopie or not poopie." Well, she wasn't poopie which meant we didn't have to change her diaper right away, so the result of a lot of spare time mixed with a jingle that Eric just couldn't get out of his head turned into "poopie or not poopie." And we came up with this great idea for a talk show on some kids radio channel:
Poopie or Not Poopie?
Co-hosts 3-year-olds Elissa and Aidan
Story: "My brother took my toy car from me. Poopie or Not Poopie?"
Concensus: Definitely Poopie
We laughed talking about the idea. Then figured the show would end every time with Elissa and Aidan arguing:
You're poopie.
No, you're poopie.
No I'm not. You're poopie.
I'm telling.
No, I'm telling.
Ahhh, I miss my 3-year-old neice and nephew. Miranda was their age. And I can't help but wonder where she would have fit into the poopie arguments. In my head, she's a perfect angel and would have been the peacemaker saying that neither was poopie. But let's face it, she would have been three, meaning that poopie would have been an extreme insult to her and she probably would have thrown out a few poopies of her own.
