My Poop: Exclamation Point

This is the time of year where Stella likes to run around in the backyard after dinner. Tonight she did so without a diaper on.

We were inside with our friend Michael. Every now and then we caught a glimpse of Stella running around. Suddenly she yelled something incomprehensible. We didn't think much of it. Out friend's dog, Doodle, was running around back there, too. We figured she was shouting at him or just playing around.

I peeked out the window to ensure myself that she was indeed safe. I caught a glimpse of our dogs chomping on something. Some food? A toy? A lizard or bird? They frequently catch critters. Who knows what it was.

We carry on with our visit.

Stella continues to yell--lamenting almost--something that is now making sense.

Jamie says, "Is she yelling, 'My poop!'? Stella, did you poop?"

"Yes!" she replies, somewhat alarmed.

In a flash it all computes.

I now know what the dogs were chomping on earlier--Stella's poop.

Yes indeed.

"Stella, did the dogs eat your poop?"

"Yes! Yes! My poop! My poop! Oh. Oh no. My poop!"

Michael acts quickly, "Doodle, get in here."

Stella continues to talk about the social affront committed against her and her feces. It's not disgusting to her, it's more like when a playmate steals a favorite toy. She feels wronged. She runs around repeating it as if she wants her poop back.

Michael comforts her, "I would be upset, too, if that happened in my immediate company."