"Are you poopy?" I asked as I took Punky into her bedroom for her nap. I put her on the changing table and commenced changing a poopy.
"Yeah," she says in her normal little whiny voice. "Medicine," she appeals pitifully with her poochy lips out as far as they can go (this is her new thing-she believes she needs "medicine" on her bottom every time she poops).
"No, you don't need medicine...when are you going to start pooping inthe potty?"
"No," Punky says determinedly.
"Why not?" I ask, even more determined to know WHY she refuses to learn how to go to the potty.
I guess that explains that. The little stinker.