The family ate at Outback Steakhouse tonight. Being midweek, it was relatively quiet — a far cry from going on weekends when you have to wait 45 minutes for a table.
Anyway, as we’re waiting for dinner to arrive, T blurts out (loud enough for nearby diners to hear):
“My butt feels like it’s about to go poop!”
(We’ll be working with her on a new phrase: “I need to use the bathroom.”)