“Mama, I had a mermaid poop!” M called from the bathroom.
“A mermaid poop?” asked I, from the kitchen.
“I think she said ‘a runny poop’.” came Mr. Cartigan’s voice from the bedroom.
“No!” said M, “a MERMAID POOP!”
By then I was in the bathroom checking it out. And she was right. Her poop looked like a mermaid; a beautiful, peaceful, long-haired, fish-tailed mermaid. Made of poop. I had to ask myself repeatedly whether I should take a picture or not. I didn’t but I probably should have. Instead, we flushed it to the ocean, a la Finding Nemo.
“How did you do that?” I asked M.
“There are fairies inside me.”
I wouldn’t be surprised.