This morning, as I was driving to The Boy’s school, I heard a faint but familiar sound coming from the back seat.
I glanced at him in my mirror and saw that his face was red and his eyes tearing. “C___,” I said, “are you pooping?”
“Uh-uh,” was his reply.
“Are you sure? Mommy thinks you’re pooping.”
He scowled at me and pointed forward.