The Poop Talk

If you’re anything like me… well. You really should be in bed right now. You’re pretty low on sleep and stressed out from this whole “part time job somehow magically equals almost 40 hours a week” thing you’re going through. Or is that too specific? That’s too specific. If you’re anything like me, you have a bunch of friends with kids about your own kid’s age, and those kids simply woke up one morning around 18 months and said “Mother, if it pleases you, from this moment forward I shall delight in voiding my bladder and bowels in the big potty. No more shall I soil my diaper or underpants! Never again shall you resort to scraping feces from beneath my testicles! No, darling mother, from this moment hence I am fully potty trained except possibly if you take me to Target and the autoflush toilets traumatize me and I have a few accidents. Now. What shall I fetch you for breakfast?” Meanwhile, your own kid is 3 and still retreats beneath the dining room table while pulling chairs in around him and screaming “DON’T LOOK AT ME! I’M POOPING! DON’T LOOK AT MEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

It’s a little bit frustrating is all.

We’ve got the bribes going. I’m trying to avoid threats and shame. He keeps promising that he’ll poop in the potty “tomorrow,” to the point where we’ve got a jam tomorrow, jam yesterday thing going on, perhaps. Meanwhile, have I mentioned how very tired I am of changing diapers and cleaning up poop? I am very tired of it! Very. The tiredest.

Meanwhile, we’ve tried talking to him about where pee and poop come from. Dude thinks I am full of it. Apparently he thinks pee is stored in his penis and poop is stored in his butt. I tried to explain that he eats food and swallows it and it goes in his stomach (his “tummy tummy,” if you will) and then his body takes out the vitamins and energy it needs and turns the rest into poop and he corrected me. “Mama, I don’t eat poop! Silly mama. Poop is not for eating!”

I’m glad we’re clear on that last bit.

I tried explaining again about drinking things and peeing, eating things and pooping. He laughed.

“So I pee in a cup and put my shirt in the cup and I eat my shirt and then it goes in my tummy tummy and I poop it out?”

He thought that statement was HILARIOUS and laughed about it. I don’t know where his SHIRT came into the equation, other than perhaps he was trying to feed me a line as ridiculous as the one I had just fed him. WE DON’T EAT POOP, MAMA! But we pretty much dropped the topic for the time being.

Until we happened to be out in public eating something and he loudly announced “Mama, I am eating this chicken nugget and turning it into poop!”

If only he’d put that poop in the potty.

Mirrored from Now Showing!.