Context: Finn has escaped from his bed again, giggling and trying less and less plausible excuses each time. After a victory lap of the living room, he declares that he needs to go poo and parks himself on the potty. When asked, after five minutes, if he really, truly, actually, needs to be there, he laughs, points at his protruding belly and says:
"Just kidding! No poo's coming now - all the food is still in my small intestine!"
That one's up there with the time my older son tried to explain the birds and the bees to me and his grandmother (with predictably mortifying results).
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