Thursday, January 08, 2009

Because there's just not enough talk about human waste up in here

I don't know that I've ever seen my son so proud of himself as he was tonight when he showed me what he had dropped in the toilet.

Before I continue, I just have to say...I am a hypocrite. Of sorts. Whenever I detect that a post is about potty training or diapers or anything else related to somebody's kid's ex-food, I skip right over it. Your kid's awesome, I'm sure, and in a pinch* I might even change their diaper myself. But for some reason, I skip right over these posts.

And yet, here I am, about to drop a post on you about potty training. In my defense....who am I kidding, I have no defense. I am defenseless. Don't shoot me.

We've been having a bit of difficulty convincing eldest son to drop his brown bombs in the toilet. Potty training began in earnest over the holiday break, and progressed quite well for the most part. Progress was nudged along a bit when our friends Jay and Hayley came to visit from Minnesota. While they were here for dinner one night, their son ditched his pants and ran around in his underwear, a sight which we leveraged to peer pressure our own diaper clinging toddler.

But the act of toilet-crapping still eluded the little guy. He'd do it here and there, but for the most part, he put up a firm resistance. Firm like a constipated nugget.

But then tonight, out of nowhere, he demanded to go to the potty. I assumed he just needed to pee, but as he took his place upon the throne, he told me that he needed to poop. And then he told me to go away.

He told me to go away, people. He wanted to poop by himself on the toilet. He's on his way to discovering inner peace, that one.

I was called back in several times so he could show me the increasingly larger pile that he was creating in the bowl. Finally he was finished. As he flushed the toilet, I looked down at my little fellow and said, "Today, you are my son."**

*And by pinch, I mean a situation wherein you are completely unable to fulfill your parenting obligations for some reason. Don't call me about coming to change diapers. You'll get your shit hung up on.

**No I didn't, because that'd be a fucked up thing to say to a kid.

4 comments:

David said...

Jackson too has learned the value of pooping privacy. He's always been good about picking up that part of the potty training - it's the waiting too long to pee cause I'm playing or watching tv thing that still needs work. There was a moment when I was in the shower in the morning this week, a time Jackson likes to spend perched on the floor in front of the little heater in our bathroom, when suddenly he exclaimed in a panicky voice, " Daddy! Daddy!! I can't get my pullup down I'm going to poop in my pullup and mama will be angry!! HurrY!!" Or something to that affect. Following mad dripping dash out of shower, during which I did not slip and fall on my ass or electrocute myself on the heater, the day was saved when I managed to place Jackson on the potty in the nick of time. Of course he was complaining, "You're getting me all wet and dripping on my hair and my hair is all wet!" Just pooop, kid.

Bubblewench said...

Better start leaving some Thomas the train books in there for him.... Congrats..

sybil law said...

That's craptastic!!!

Keith said...

Ah the serenity of the bowl. Your son is on his way to being a man. (My son reads Highlights on the bowl so you may want to consider a subscription.)