It's a long drive to Brooklyn. 9 hours in fact. And somewhere along the road, E developed a raging case of diarrhea. Purrrrrrfect.
We were lucky enough to catch the first couple of epsiodes in time and careen off the road before all hell broke loose. But then all hell broke loose. About 45 minutes out of NYC, when there really is no place to pull over or exit that won't land you on a turnpike or some bridge/tunnel that you definitely don't want and that will only prolong the trip by hours or days, E dropped the bomb. The bomb to which all previous explosions were mere preludes. And given her propensity for narrating every waking moment of her life, we were given front row seats to one of the awesomest conversations ever...depending on your definition of "awesomest", of course. I transcribed her comments onto my iPhone as it was unfolding, naturally.
E: Poop comes out the front, right?
M: No, pee comes out the front. Poop comes out the back.
E: Well, my poop comes out the front.
M: Trust me babe, pee comes out of your urethra at the front, and poop comes out of your anus, at the back. (What? Your kid doesn't know the world urethra?) It works like that for everybody.
E: Come on, mom. This is not how it works. My poop and pee both come out the front.
M: Well that's a first.
E: Does poop have water in it?
M: A little. But most of the water comes out in your pee, and most of the solid stuff comes out in your poop.
E: I have a lot of water in my poop. It's like at the end of Finding Nemo. That much water.
M: That's a lot of water alright.
E: I don't like my diarrhea. Do you have diarreha?
E: Well, I have diarrhea.
E: Are we close yet?
M: Yep, we're close.
E: Yay! We're close! That took a long time. I don't ever want to go that far again. I can go this far in a plane, but not in a car.
M: I've got bad news for you babe...
E: When we get to New York I'm going to tell everyone about my diarrhea.