It was so gross, we all had to watch

We have been enjoying some freakishly warm and sunny spring weather lately.  On campus, the upper school (Brit speak for high school) dining room faces a lovely lawn that gently slopes down to a picturesque pond.  When the weather is nice, the french doors in the dining room are thrown open so students can eat on the patio area or large manicured lawn.  With all of this amazing spring weather, the teen has been spending her lunchtime in the sunshine with friends.

Below is the conversation I had with my oldest daughter yesterday evening after asking a simple little question about her lunch.


Me: So what did you do for lunch? (I usually ask what she did because it's not always eating. Usual responses include practiced a dance team routine with friends, did my homework, sat in the gym to talk with friends, walked to the nearby convenience store for a snack, or printed out some paper that's due in the afternoon.)

Teen: Oh my gosh, mom, did you know that worms poop? (imagine her eyes the size of saucers)

Me: Hmmm...

Teen: Today at lunch we were all outside and we saw this worm pooping.  It was like having a biology class right there in the grass.  It just stuck it's butt out of the ground and these little round balls started coming out.  We were all grossed out, but kept watching anyway.  I don't know how much that worm had eaten because poop kept coming out for the longest time, like forever.  How much did that worm have to eat to get all that poop stored up?  (finally draws a breath) And the poop looked just like dirt.  You know - I wonder how much of the dirt on the ground is really worm poop.  Because worm poop looks just like the dirt you see everywhere and that's kinda freaky.  


At last she ran out of things to say about the worm poop.  It was very much a one-sided conversation, but I didn't mind.  We do some of our best communicating when I don't really say anything... just nod my head and make vague noises along the lines of really, hmmm, wow or the very southern yep.