No Wonder I Am Pooped . . .

"Mom?"

I knew the sound of that mom.  It was the I-am-thinking-deep-thoughts-and-I-want-to-share-them-with-you, mom.  I took a deep breath to prepare myself, and then I answered.

"Yes Ethan?"

"My friend said that the word 'crap' is just another word for poop. " He finished, checked my reaction,  and then blushed.

I laughed.  Another poop talk, and at the breakfast table no less.  This could be expected in say, the bathroom, but the kitchen?  I like my kitchen to be poop free.

"Well," I paused, "your friend is right.  Crap means poop," and then I looked him right in the eye and finished. "You know what also means poop?  Shit.  Shit means poop.  So if I say, 'Oh shit!', then I am really saying 'Oh poop!'"

He giggled, and as he thought about it more, those giggles shook his shoulders and caught his breath until he was laughing so hard that he could not talk. All the poop talk coming out of his mother's mouth was apparently just too much for him.  But finally, finally, he composed himself and pitched me a doozy.

"So . . . if there are other poop words . . . "  he smiled, but his twinkling eyes gave him away, "when I go out to pick up Indy the puppy's poop,  can I say, 'Mom, I am going to do my shit job?'" 

Now it was my turn to lose it.  After I was done laughing and choking on my toast, I replied, "No, my love.  You can not.  Even though it would probably make me laugh every time you said it, you. can. not."

And then I sent him out to do his shit job.