A big part of the day around here involves poop. Poopie diapers, to be exact. There's checking for poop, announcing poop's arrival, smelling poop (this when poop's arrival went unannounced), asking about poop, communicating concern because one or the other has not pooped yet, etc. With two children - a three year old in potty training and a one year old - it's to be expected.
I have a couple friends who think any variation of "poop" is always in the realm of hilarious. But their funny bones are really tickled when it comes to gas. The three year old has a lot in common with them. When she lets go some gas, she launches into a fit of laughter. When she says escue me, it is barely audible between the giggles that are so rolicking that she can hardly breathe. When the little one toots, big sister cracks up at that as well. I can't help but laugh myself. This one, she's proud of her poop accomplishments. When she has to poop, she'll tell you. When she is pooping, she'll tell you. And, when she's finished, she'll announce the presence of poopies in her diaper, including description as to whether the poopies are little poopies or big poopies. And praise is sung high around here for this.
I don't usually deal with this much poop or gas in my day (unless I'm spending time with the aforementioned friends). But I'm learning that it can be a great source of pride, poop can. And gas, well that's some seriously funny stuff.
So this afternoon when we all went to Shelburne Farms to see and pet the farm animals, I have to say that while I was amused by the little name game in the picture below, it did not surprise me in the least. After all, POOP IS THE WORD.