No one's a poopy.

Coen and Lucy finished their dinner and excused themselves to the playroom.  Tad and I sat at the table, drinking our bubbly water and listening to them. Here is the conversation that ensued after some time of sharing and difficulty sharing, playing with Lucy's new birthday toys:

Lucy: You are a poopy Coen.
Coen: I'm not a poopy Coen!
Lucy: Poopy pooder doodie Coen.
Coen: I'm telling
Tad and I look at each other, smile, wait for it...
Coen: (entering the dining room) Lucy called me poopy!
Me: Well, did you tell her that you don't like that?
A few moments go by and we can't hear the conversation. Then...
Coen: Pooder girl!
Lucy: I am not a pooder girl!!! (starts crying, enters dining room) Mom! Coen called me a pooder girl. 
Me: Did you tell Coen that you don't like that?
Tad: Also, Lucy, I heard you calling Coen names too.  Why don't you both stop calling each other names?
Me: We don't want to hurt each other with words.
Lucy: (Going back in the playroom) Coen, I didn't like it when you called me pooder girl!
Coen: I'm sorry Lucy.  I won't anymore. 
pause
Coen: Are you sorry too?
Lucy: Yes.
More time goes by with quiet playing
Lucy: You're a poopy!
Coen: You're a poopy! Long pause.  No one's a poopy!
Lucy: Yeah! No one's a poopy!

That's right.  It's 7:15.  Coen's having his reading time. Lucy is tucked in bed. Tad is doing the dishes. I am free to write a post.  No one is a poopy indeed!