My friend O. is five. She has extremely smart and sensible parents, so she is naturally a smart and sensible person. However, sometimes smart and sensible people who make smart and sensible rules end up with unusual results.

O. is only allowed to talk about bathroom things in the bathroom. In practice, this means that while she is in the bathroom, she talks about bathroom things almost entirely nonstop. Because I am loved, I was selected as the best victim to take to the bathroom at dinner last night. Also because I am a sucker and O.’s mom has been to the bathroom with her innumerable times so that the novelty has worn off.

I have been informed, as a result, about the progress of bowel movements, their relative qualities, their ease of production. I have participated in knock-knock jokes that went like this:

O.: Knock knock!
Me: Who’s there?
O.: Bathroom.
Me: Bathroom who?
O.: Bathroom poop! (Maniacal laughter…)

However, there was a digression there, in which O. offered to teach me to tap dance, since I was clearly woefully inadequate in that department, as evidenced by the tapping of my toes on the floor. I love that kid.