Mr. Seahorse

Dear Caden,

This morning started around 0430 for us. I hear you hollering, "Mooooommy! Come Quick! Big no no!" I jump out of bed and race to your room, my mind whirling with a million thoughts on what your idea of a 'big no no' could be. I open the door and see you standing on you bed holding your seahorse at arms length towards me.
"Mommy! Mr. Seahorse dirty! Need clean!"
"Caden, what happened? Why is Mr. Seahorse dirty?"
"Mr. Seahorse poo poo...big no no Mommy! Mr. Seahorse poo poo on MEEEEE! Ewww yuck!"
"Mr. Seahorse pooped on you?"
"Mr. Seahorse has tummy owie. Needs medicine and temperature. Needs clean, ew yuck!"
As I get closer I see that your bed is c.o.v.e.r.e.d. in poop, you have war-like poo marks on your face and your hair is different shades of brown. Let's not forget about Mr. Seahorse who obviously caused this poopocolypse. We checked both you and Mr. Seahorse's temperature and gave you both medicine for comfort. I've decided we must potty train Mr. Seahorse, that's all there is too it, either that or make him start wearing diapers.

Love,
Mommy