Malka, I fear, will be a “poo master” - and not to worry, P. - we’ll have the sonnets ready for you.

At least her stuffed animals are scrupulously hygienic. After walking them through all the various…business…she always has them wash their hands most carefully.

Ruminating over this post this am, ever so briefly, has caused me to wonder why there is not a little poo opera for tots. It’s the perfect topic, really. I even think it would be great entertainment for a, say, pagan holiday in someone’s yard?! Can you see it? It has all of the tragic elements needed: the discovery of young love (er attachment), jealously (that’s mine!), unrequited love, death (a certain liebestode, if you will, Un Bel Poo?), and the will to live in spite of this amazing and harrowing life experience. The characters would consist of the young tot, her evil (insert-family-member-here) flusher, the antagonistic diaper, heck a plumber even. Think of that lovely arias! Sets! Wow, I imagine a large John Pierre Ponelle inspired fantasy bathroom. That’s so 80’s. And there’s no reason it could not be a bit modern, with some wildy Ella-esque scatterwalling–lots of two syllable rhyming words would make this riveting for the young set. Just think of the chorus alone…

I think I’ve got some payback coming with the phase stuff, since “a phase” was what all my wimmin-lovin’ was, in the eyes of my parents. It took my Dad at least 15 years of patient waiting (peeking past the window shade in vain hopes of a male suitor, etc.–no, for me), before he gave up the ghost.