Wednesday, September 21, 2011
"Proof," Zander says, grinning.
"Proof of what?"
"It's unicorn poop. I found it at school."
"Yeah," says Noa, rocking on her toes. "Da purrpull uk-e-corn dat poops out wainbows! Dat's his poop. It's a wainbow. Don't fwow it in da darbidge, o-tay Mommy?...Pwomise?"
"Okay, Noa, I promise."
And so, I have become the proud owner of mystical manure, captivating caca, delightful doo-doo, real honest-to-goodness unicorn ordure. Someone better alert the Ministry of Magic - I probably need a license.