Constipation makes anyone feel like a Chupacabra. As a toddler I battled constipation. I wonder why it never occurred to my loving mother to feed me papaya and prunes instead of cup-of-noodles. Maybe she yearned for a Chupacabra baby. I don’t know. I do know know that her tenacious creativity merits acknowledgment. One day as I struggled to poop, nothing was working. The turtle wouldn’t come out. Tap. Tap. Tap. I tapped on my knees, it wouldn’t come out. I yelled to my mom, “Mom!” “No puedo! No se me sale!” My mom peeped in the bathroom door, “Ok, I’m going to help you.” She walked away. I heard her pick up the telephone in the living room. Ring. Ring. Ring. “Sì, hola, mamà, mire estoy batallando con esta niña que no se le sale el popo. Que hago?” With embarrassment, I yelled from the bathroom door, “Maaaa, why do you have to tell everybody?!” “I hate you!” My grandmother responded on the other line, “Mmmm, Diosito santo. Pues como a los becerritos, metele una ramita haber sì se le sale.” My mom said, “Ok, lo voy a intentar. Ay, anda de chillona esta niña. Bye. Luego le hablo.” She hung up the phone with my grandmother and then I heard the door to the backyard slam shut. Regreso con una ramita del arbol de limones. I immediately thought she was going to spank me. I got super angry. “No me peges!” “It’s not my fault!” “I’m trying!” She said, “No te voy a pegar mensa, te voy a sacar el popo que traes atorado en las pompis.” I thought, “What!?” “I guess.” She put me over her knee and inserted the ramita in my butt to pull out my poop. It worked! Oh my gosh! My mom is the best! I have the best mom in the world! She loves me so much she used a stick to get poop out of my butt. Thanks mom! I dried my tears away and ran outside to play tag with Cheeto and la Trompuda.