Cracked
I finally had to lay down some rules about what Gabriela was allowed to talk about and where. One of these new laws is doodies. I don't particularly care whether or not she talks about her poo in public- I mean, let's face it, we all DO it, but at the same time I realize not everyone is as free as I am.
So, we are sitting at the dinner table and Gabriela looks at me, asking, "Mommy? We can talk about doodies at home, right?"
"Yes, that's right."
HUGE smile. "Okay! Because MY doodie? It's cracked!"
"Excuse me... what?"
She sits up straight as can be in her chair, grabs an imaginary seemingly elephant sized poo and repeats, "My doodies are like cracked! In HALF!" and proceeds to *break* her imaginary doodie in two to illustrate.
So, we are sitting at the dinner table and Gabriela looks at me, asking, "Mommy? We can talk about doodies at home, right?"
"Yes, that's right."
HUGE smile. "Okay! Because MY doodie? It's cracked!"
"Excuse me... what?"
She sits up straight as can be in her chair, grabs an imaginary seemingly elephant sized poo and repeats, "My doodies are like cracked! In HALF!" and proceeds to *break* her imaginary doodie in two to illustrate.
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