A note from Conner's mom here. I just thought this conversation was adorable and I have to memorialize it in some way.
So, to set the scene. Last night, Conner was sitting in my lap cuddling and sipping a cup of milk. He paused, looked at the cup, then looked around and patted his tummy quizzically.
He held up the cup and said, "Where does this go?"
I said, "Um, where does what go?"
"This!" he said, pointing to his cup.
"OH, where does the milk go when you drink it?"
"Yes, where does it go, Mama?"
"Uh, well, it goes into your tummy!"
"Where is that?"
"What, your tummy?"
"Yes, where is my tummy?"
"Well, um, it's in your belly?" and we pat his tummy together.
Satisfied with that, he continued to drink his milk. As I was sitting there, thinking about how brilliant my son was, and what an advanced thinker and problem solver, he said, "You're a poopyhead!"
So, there you have it.