Wee Wombat Learns To Poo

Recently I was asked to write to a class of five-year-old children. Here’s the story I included.

copyright Alexander DudleyOne day, Wee Wombat’s mummy took him for a walk outside their lovely dark, smelly burrow. After a delicious breakfast of grass, she kissed him on the head and pointed to the field that surrounded the dark hole that was their home.

“It’s time you learned how to mark which part of the meadow belongs to us,” said Mombat, “so that rabbits, sheep and other wombats don’t eat all our dinner before we can.”

“Yes Mum!” said Wee Wombat, eagerly. “Which bit does belong to us?”

“All the grass between the old log and that rock shaped like a dingo,” she smiled. “You have to mark it so that everyone knows this bit of grass is ours.”

“I could scratch the log with our names!” said Wee Wombat.

“But you couldn’t scratch the rock, it’s too hard,” Mombat said.

“Oh,” said Wee Wombat. “I know! I could dig a trench by the rock to keep other animals out! I’m brilliant at digging!”

“But we want your friends Kylie Kangaroo and Wally Wallaby to be able to visit, don’t we?” Mombat pointed out.

“Oh,” said Wee Wombat. “Then what shall we do?”

“What shall we do? We’ll do a poo,” said Mombat.

“Do a poo? Ew!” said Wee Wombat.

“The smell will tell everyone that we live here, and this is our grass,” said Mombat. “Go on, try it now, on the old log.”

Wee Wombat was a bit nervous, but he was a good Wee Wombat and did as he was told. He lifted his wee wombat bum and did a wee wombat poo on the old log. One poo, two poo, three poo, four poo. But the wind blew and his poo rolled off the log.

“Oo, my poo blew, what shall we do?” he asked.

“What shall we do? We’ll do a square poo,” said Mombat.

“Do a square poo? Ew! And ow!” said Wee Wombat.

“Don’t worry, Wee Wombat, It won’t hurt,” said Mombat, “Try it now, on the old log.”

Wee Wombat was still a bit nervous, but he was a good Wee Wombat and did as he was told. He lifted his wee wombat bum, concentrated hard, and did a wee wombat square poo on the old log. One poo, two poo, three poo, four poo. The wind blew … and his poo stayed where it was!

“Well done, Wee Wombat!” said Mombat. “Now everyone will know that this grass belongs to Mombat and her Wee Wombat.

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About wombat37

A Yorkshireman in the green hills of Lancashire, UK Not a real wombat, obviously, or typing would become an issue. I do have short legs and a hairy nose, however. Oh, & a distinctive smell.

Posted on June 29, 2016, in Kiddiewinks, Short story, story, Writings. Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. Vivian Hargrave

    I’m not much about discussing poo but this was really good. I am going to read it to Judah and Emmie…they will love it!!! If its about poo, then they are all about it.

    Like

  2. Well, that explains everything 🙂

    Like

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