Hop out of the sidecar, Jesus...

...because Eva pooped! Yesterday evening, at our in-laws' house, and of her own accord. It figures that the minute I hang out her scatological laundry for the universe to see that the situation would more or less resolve itself. She didn't make it to the potty, but that's only happened one time, anyway. I would have let her poop in my hand, at that point. I appreciate the comments and commiseration, however, and will be taking all the advice to heart.

It's funny-- literally the minute she pooped, she started singing, and she kind of hasn't stopped since. She slept last night, of course, but every waking minute since then it's been a nonstop mash-up of the alphabet song, a little tune we made up to go with a rhyme in Babybug magazine, and the Johnny Appleseed prayer. It's like the poop was blocking her throat chakra, or something, and given how much backlog she had, I'm not surprised.

It's funny how much not pooping changes her attitude. It's also funny how much some of you don't want to keep reading about bowel habits, but it literally runs our life some days. She can be absolutely demonic when she's backed up, and it can last for so long that occasionally I'll forget her true nature and think that we've just moved on to another level of personality. But-- nope. She'll poop, and it's back to sweetness and light.

Gives new meaning to those senior citizens waltzing their merry way through fiber supplement commercials.