That’s a package addressed to Mommy.
We join this story just as a putrid smell begins to fill my nostrils…
Me: K, you’re riding kind of low there, did you poop?
Me: Are you sure? I think we should change your diaper.
K: NO! NO POOPIE! (her head spins, flames shoot from her nostrils and her hair turns into snakes)
Me: (backing away slowly) Okay, you let me know.
(5 minutes and one entire can of febreeze later)
K: I poopie. K poopie mmmess. I mmmmmmess.
Me: Should we change your diaper?
Never interrupt a good dump.