Subtitled: This is what they’re teaching in the three-year-old class?

Sub-subtitled: Anatomy 101, for those who are in need of a refresher course*

Tonight we were doing the usual pre-bath routine – the one where I wait for what seems like an eternity for Miss T to…finish her business.  We’ve found it speeds the process if you engage her in conversation as a distraction, so that’s what I was attempting to do when she floored me with some newly obtained knowledge:

Miss T: Boys don’t go poop.

Me: What?!  Yes they do.

Miss T: No they don’t.

Me: [continuing my fine mothering tradition of asking stupid questions to which I don’t really want the answer] What makes you say that boys don’t poop?

Miss T: They don’t have a hole!

Me: …

Miss T: They don’t have a hole so they don’t go poop.

Me: I…wow.  Just…gah.  That’s not right at all.  Where did you hear that?  You’re only three!!  Believe me, boys do go poop.

Miss T: No.

Me: Trust me on this one, kid.  They have a hole.  And they definitely poop.

Miss T: They have a hole?

Me: [wondering when, exactly, it was that my life came to this point] Yes.  Yes, they do.

Miss T: [impressed] Boys poop?

Me: Everyone poops.

Miss T: [awed] Everyone poops?!

Me: Everyone.  Tell your friends.  Wait, maybe not.

Miss T: [utterly amazed] Boys poop.

Me: Can you just get in the bath now please?

*One time I had a coworker ask me – apropos of nothing and in all seriousness – how our bodies “know” to poop out of one hole and pee out of another.  After staring at her in open shock for several seconds, I stammered out a basic lesson on the inner workings of the human body.  She nodded thoughtfully, obviously satisfied with my answer, and walked away as though we’d been casually discussing the weather.  It was quite possibly the most bizarre encounter I’ve had in my entire life.