Potty Words, Part I

A couple days ago, I went to the basement to call my sweet bairn up for dinner - nothing unusual.  Two of the five pushed past me, racing to the stairs with their new battle cry "last one up is a smelly chicken!" (huh?) - again, nothing unusual.  Annie waddled as quickly as her chubby crumbgobbler legs could carry her, and was followed by Lizzy and Gracie.  Lizzy was only in her underpants - once again, not unusual - but she and Gracie had huge smiles on their faces and were walking as nonchalantly as 4-year-olds can.  As Lizzy sashayed past, I noticed a post-it note on her backside.

It was this post-it:

Conversation follows:

Me: "Hey Lizzy.  What's that on your tushie?"  (I grab the note)

Gracie:  All smiles

Lizzy: "Oh, it's a picture I drew."  (shoulder shrug, with a "not a big deal" voice)

Me: "Well, what is it?"

Gracie: Even bigger smiles, if possible.  Stifled giggles.

Lizzy: "Well...let's just call it dirt.  Because we don't want to say any potty words now, do we?"

And, too cool for school, just keeps on walking like it's not even that funny, because somehow she already knows it's even more hilarious when you act like it isn't.

Gracie:  "It's POOP Mommy!!!! Bwaahahahahahaha!"  Doubled over, laughing like crazy. 

Laughing because poop is incredibly funny, especially to little kids and grown up boys.  Laughing because this was so obviously planned and discussed and giggled and snorted about and bonded over for several minutes (at least) while there was no adult supervision to impede their fun.

And no, Lizzy.  We don't want to say potty words.  We also don't want to walk around with a post-it note stuck to our bottoms with hand drawn pictures of feces that look remarkably like jelly beans.