The whisk I'd been using to mix ice cream fell on the floor.
Elise, age 3, peering closely: "Is that poop?"
Me: "No, it's not poop. I was just unhappy about the mess I made on the floor.
Elise: "That chocolate, not poop."
Me: "Yes, you're right. It's chocolate."
Elise, supremely confident: "That not poop on the floor, Mama..."