I’m not poop

Each of the girls are taking to their lives being turned upside-down in different ways. The 2-year old calls herself Cole or Franklin now, depending on her mood, and her voice has risen about 80 decibels. Most of them have had bouts with fits that have been pretty strong and difficult. One of them cries all the time. There have been lots of different things, of course, and that’s to be expected.

At the end of one particularly looooong day this week, I said, “I’m pooped!”

The 5-year-old, ever quick, immediately said, “Pooped means tired.”

Just as quickly, the 3-year-old said, “Mommy, you’re not poop!”

So, no matter how long and difficult these days might get with daddy away, at least I have this one consolation: I’m not poop.

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