I walked past our bathroom and noticed Leo watching the water swirl away in the toilet he’d just flushed.
Me: “What are you doing, buddy?”
Leo: “Watching my poop. Where does it go when you flush? It looks like so much fun- like a water tornado. It’s like a ride at the fair.”
Me: “Gross. It goes through pipes and then to the sewer, I guess. Did you know that people used to poop in buckets or a hole in the ground? Thank goodness for modern plumbing, huh?”
Leo: “Yeah. I like for my poop to have fun. I wouldn’t want it just sitting there in a bucket.”
Me: “I think maybe you care too much about your poop. I can’t believe we’re talking about this.”
Leo: “It’s just that the water looks fun when it goes down the hole.”
Me: “Maybe we can go to a water park this summer and you can pretend you’re poop!”
Leo: “Yeah! I don’t want to stink, though, okay? I just want to smell like me, Leo.”
Me: “Definitely. Wash your hands, please.”
Leo: “We talk about gross stuff. It’s awesome!”
And then I watched PBS and listened to Mozart and read Dostoyevsky and sipped tea out of a floral patterned antique English tea cup because I felt dirty and unrefined. Children can bring out the frat boy in you. It’s awful.