On a Lighter Note

Under the category of "Not for the Squeamish ..."

One of the, ahem, joys of parenting a four year old is that you get to be privy (pardon the pun) to little jewels like this:
"Mom! Come look at my poop!" (And you come, pulled like a lump of seaweed at low tide, yielding without resistance to the fate for which college simply did not prepare you ...)
"Wow, [beloved child], that is QUITE a bit of poop!"
"Yeah." Pause. "It's a CITY of poop." Pause. "A whole WO-WULD of poop."
Indeed, dear one. Indeed.