This morning Sydney and I were getting dressed for the day in my room.
“This. shirt. can’t. fit. over. my. big. head!” she said as she struggled to pull a Tinkerbell shirt over her head.
Then she got silly.
“Shirty shirt. Pants pants. Poophole. Poophole. Ha ha ha ha ha ha!”
“Sydney,” I said sternly without smiling. “Where did you learn that? We don’t say Poophole.”
She looked at me for a split second, smiled, and said, “Poop!”
Sigh.
I told her not to say Poophole, but I didn’t say not to say Poop. Great! I’d been outsmarted by a 3-year-old and it was only 7 a.m.!
