Carrie, you're almost 5 yrs old now. I know your birthday isn't until October but still, you are no longer a baby. I've watched you grow from that precious infant into the young lady you are today. Um, that "lady" part of the description for you is what I want to talk with you about.
There you are dressed in your floral knee length dress, the crinoline beneath it making wisking sounds as you twirl across the floor in your white leather t-strap shoes. Your hair is pulled back at the crown with a barrette, thick and long, it swings out around you as you dance. You are a lovely princess.
Suddenly you come to a halt. The dance is over. You turn away from me but look back over your shoulder as you move away. Out of that beautiful mouth, you utter these words and this is what we must have a talk about. You say "I have to poop". As you continue your walk to the restroom, you inform me, "I farted".
It's time Carrie my dear. It's time we discuss your need to share too much information with the room at large. Granted, at your age it might be considered kinda cute but I know a young lady that is in her late twenties and still anounces to the room her intention to commit a bodily function each time she leaves the room to go to the restroom and I cringe to think that someday that might be you. We must have a discussion on excusing yourself from a room.