Harper likes to talk her way through her bedtime songs. I don’t really care, I just plow ahead and do it whether she’s listening or not, but it bugs Brett. I guess he feels the need to “listen to her” and “not be ignored” and “be a good parent”. But she is often interrupting with things like this:
Brett: Harper, I’m going to sing now and it’s time for you to be quiet and listen. No more talking, okay?
Harper: Okay.
He finished one song and started the second one.
Harper: Daddy? How do we poop?
Brett: (sighing) What do you mean?
Harper: I mean like, how does the poop get out of our bodies?
Brett: We have a series of muscles in our bodies that squeezes it out.
Harper: But how does it get past our butthole?
Brett: It relaxes and it just does. Okay, no more talking. You can think about pooping, but no more talking about pooping.
Harper: I can think about pooping???
And through the glow of her nightlight Brett saw her eyes get wide with excitement on and off throughout the rest of the song as she thought about pooping.
I only hope she always looks at life with the same awe she looks at pooping now.
