poop

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While walking through the North Carolina Museum of Art, my son brings up poop. It seems to be the popular topic of the month. He gazed upon the historic sculptures, asked a few questions, like “what’s that?” and then decided it was time to move on to more important things, like throwing rocks.

I am glad that I have exposed Brantley to so many different things at such a young age. Yet, every parent must wonder – does it matter? He has seen the mountains, the ocean, concerts, academia, professional sporting events, on and on. In spite of it all – he is a true two year old boy. Case & point:

Quotes from 25 months –

This is mommy’s butt (as he smacks my butt).
Went “five hole” on daddy.
That’s my booty (as he smacks his butt).
Mommy, sew button on my brown pants, now!
I’m not a robot.
I’m a dude.
No, I’m not a pirate!
We hatin’ and rollin’.
We don’t eat tape; we drink water.
There is poop in my butt.
I’m rockin’ out!
The hotdog is crying.
I see the moon!
I need to slam dunk.
There’s a sprinkle in my nose.
Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder what you am.
I pooped…in my butt.

Thus far, Rodin, jazz and higher education have not swayed his verse from crass topics such as butts, poop and pee – which is just fine with me.

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