R-ism of the Day (proceed with caution if you're squemish)

R is potty trained. Hallelujah! She has been for quite some time. But when we first started training her, we let her say "bye-bye" to her, ummm... waste products. She likes to say it every once in a while. Today as she said bye-bye, she asked me, "Mom, where does the poo-poo and pee pee go?" And, I, in my infinite wisdom, said, "It goes down the hole, honey." She said, "no it doesn't Mommy. It goes to the chiropractor!" And I said, "Oh really?" She said, "Yes, and the other poo-poo's hold the door open so the poo-poo's know which room to go in." [Mommy translation: the poo-poo's that have gone before become like chiropractor's assistants that show the new poo-poo's to their room at the chiropractor's office]

Even excrements need the chiropractor. I don't know where she gets this stuff.