From the Mouths of Babes
by Bill St. Clair

This is a true story. None of the names have been changed.

This story happenned shortly before we moved into our house, in the fall of 1991. The soon-to-be former tenants were still living there, Maria Cristina and Yaqin (Yah-keen) and their round-about two year old son, Elias John. The house was heated with a wood stove in the basement, so we had some split wood delivered to prepare for the coming winter. I went there one day to stack the newly delivered wood, and Elias John came out to help me. He could just barely pick up one split log, so I told him, "That's heavy". For a while after that day, whenever he saw me Elias John would say, "Bill. Heaaavy."

A little while later, we cut down some trees behind the house to make room for a septic field. When the house was built, the owners included a composting toilet with a big composting tank under the sink. Maria Cristina and Yaqin didn't use that. They used a chemical toilet that sat where the regular toilet sits now.

I went there one day to stack some of the newly cut wood. I found a nice wooden platform near the house and started stacking wood there. On about the third trip, I discovered that it wasn't a platform. It was some boards neatly laid over the hole where they dumped the chemical toilet. One of the boards broke, my foot went through, and thoobt, I was hip deep in muck. Something about the surprise of it caused me to find it incredibly funny. I laughed out loud for at least a minute. Elias John and Maria Cristina came out and saw me, right boot and pant leg turned a glistening brown, laughing uproariously.

For a while after that day, whenever he saw me Elias John would say, "Bill. Poopoo."