My son, Kyle was jus’ a little guy at the time, perhaps four, maybe five years old. He didn’t talk very much because of his autistic spectrum, so when he did speak, we were very attentive.
One morning as I was helping him get dressed for the day, he looked at me and asked, “Daddy, where does poo come from?”
“Okay,” I recall thinking, “Weird question – but I’ll answer it as simply and as best I can.”
Carefully and slowly, I explained how by eating food, chewing it into little bits, and by swallowing it goes down our throat and into our belly. I further told him that the food turns to a soup in our tummy and then drains out towards our bum and it eventually turns to poo, which is like the left overs our body can’t use.
The look on the poor child’s face is one that I will never forget. He seemed puzzled and disgusted all the same time.
“Does that make sense?” I asked.
Rather than a yes-or-no answer, Kyle countered, “So, where does Tigger come from?”
My brain completely shutdown at that point as I stared blanking into the eye’s of my young son.
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