My latest book came after my son, Jose, just started to get the hang of pooping (in the toilet). One lazy Saturday afternoon we were playing with trains when all of a sudden he shot up, started groaning, and held his tummy. I suggested that we head to the bathroom and he insisted that my advised course of action wasn’t necessary as he didn’t have to poop. A few minutes later he said “the lava was coming” and promptly moved the party to the potty.
He dropped his drawers and planted his cheeks firmly on the toddler potty seat, and I put mine on the cold, linoleum floor. For 15 minutes he maintained that he didn’t have to poop. As we sat there, I posited the question, “What poops?” To which he replied, “Flies poop. And dragons. And bears. They poop in the woods. And astronauts. Not rockets. Trees don’t poop either. I think ladybugs poop.” On and on he went naming loads of things that did and didn’t poop. Every now and again he’d splice the conversation with a, “But I don’t have to poop.”