Sep 13, 2008

Talking shit. Really.

I dropped Grace off at school yesterday, looking as if she was eight months pregnant, with the warning, "She REALLY needs to poop." They thanked me for the heads up, and I pretty much forgot about it, having had one of the crappiest days in recent memory. When I picked her up, I fully expected to be handed a plastic bag full of poopy underpants and to see Grace in pull-ups, which they put on her when she soils all the extra undies I've stuffed in her cubby. Care to guess what greeted me? My cute little girl with a noticeably smaller tummy, and one of her teachers exclaiming, "Grace pooped on the potty!" After I'd finished whooping and high-fiving and making an enormous scene that is sure to linger embarrassingly in Grace's memory for years to come, the teacher added, "For, like, an hour." When I laughed, she said, "No, really. I sat with her for an hour. It just kept coming out." Ah, that's my girl. Grace was hugely proud, and if you called right now and I asked, "Gracie, what did you do at school yesterday?" she would yell, "I pooped on the potty!"

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