I don't know what made me so germ-phobic when I was younger, but there was a rule....
Christina was NOT ALLOWED in my room (and especially not on my bed!!!!!) if she had just pooped. I had decided that "poop particles" followed her from the bathroom by way of her pants and she would bring them into my room thus infecting EVERYTHING!
There is also the routine she mandated....
When we got home from school I had to sit by the bathroom door and talk to her and keep her company while she pooped. I was quite the chatty Kathy at that age and had plenty of things I wanted to talk about.
".. we ate lunch and then Jessica made a face and we all laughed and then there was art class and I made a spaghetti and meatballs painting and I showed everyone that you really could eat it if you had a drawing of a fork..."
I yammered on and on until the germ-phobia kicked in.
"....so there I was on the playground and it was the coolest thing I ever.........hey.........HEY!!! I can HEAR you!!!!"
"no you can't" she says in a labored poop pushing voice
"YES I CAN! I'm leaving now!"
"Noooooo!" (like she needed me there or else the poo wouldn't pass. What am I? The gate keeper of the sphincter?)
Somehow..... she tricked me into staying, so I kept on blabbering, although keenly aware of further "pushing" sounds. I would pause everytime I think I heard a distinct labored grunt. Each time I would pause she would start laughing at me, which was followed by getting mad because I wasn't helping (what I was doing was causing her to laugh which in turn, was prohibiting the doody from coming out).
It was a weird situation to be in, I shouldn't be helping or hurting the chances of that potty making its way to its final destination. I shouldn't have anything to do with her personal, private toilet business, but somehow I was roped in each and every afternoon to this ridiculous routine.
I suppose it justifies my reasons for my ridiculous rule concerning "poop particles." I am now 26, and still firmly believe in "poop particles". 120 miles away the concept brings my sister to fits of hysterical laughter on the phone. And then she tells me that she's been pooping the entire conversation and that the poop particles are coming through the phone to get me!
Very smartly I reply with my argument:
"Christina, poop particles can't come through the phone cuz phones are for carrying sound, not matter, which poop particles are made of, duh"
Since "poop particles" doesn't have a page on wikipedia, and no further research can be done without bringing my sister to tears, I have no idea if my theory holds any water.