Mommy, are you poopin’?
Oh no! My kick!
This was in reference to one of her Kix falling on the floor.
Mama, are you poopin’?
I still was not pooping.
Briar’s got milk in her cup. Mama needs to go to store’n buy orange juice. Briar needs orange juice, not milk. Thank you mom to go to store.
This was said with sippy cup outstretched, one particularly dry bite of dinner later I was able to convince her of the quenching and mouth rinsing qualities of milk.
Mama, I said are you poopin’.
And no, I still was not using the dining room chair as a commode.
Toward the end of dinner Briar sat up very tall, I thought perhaps her booster seat was slipping as she looked a little off kilter. She looked at me with wide eyes and said:
I gotta get outta here.
I looked at her quizzically and realized the off kilterness was the result of her lifting one cheek off the seat and holding herself up so as not to press her bottom against the chair.
Briar, did you poop?
I’m thinking we are ready for dinner parties.