Poor G has always had a problem with constipation. But the more recent problem isn’t so much that she can’t go. It’s that she won’t go.
And since she has red hair, husby calls her Pinchiotti.
You’d have to be a fan of That 70’s Show to get the reference.
I’ve tried all kinds of things to ease the process for her. Including, but not limited to, sitting with her reading small novels while she’s on the toilet, prune juice, belly massage…you name it.
Then one day, my mom let me in on a little secret. The secret wasn’t that I had these same issues and then some while I was a wee one, because there’s no way I could forget all that – the secret was that she made sure I ate raisins. And here all this time I thought she was just giving me raisins because I liked them so much.
Mothers really do know everything.
I gave G her first box of raisins the other day.
Within hours, Miss Pinchiotti couldn’t even attempt to live up to her namesake.
Sweet stinky success.
Due to their deliciousness, and the girl on the front of the box, she calls them “Tinkerbell candy.”
Due to their super powers, she eats them by the truck load.