Poo on You

When I went in to BC’s room this morning to get him out of his crib, he was playing with the toys in his bed and having a good time. Suddenly he looked up at me, then pointed down to his central diaper region and made a proud declaration: “POO!”

Since we haven’t officially begun potty training him, I took it as a good sign. According to research, kids are usually ready to begin the potty training process sometime between 24-36 months. Since BC just turned 2 it’s probably time for us to start preparing for the fun.  I think the first step is I’m supposed to save my newspapers and line the floor of the house with them, right?  Obviously I’m kidding.  Who gets the newspaper anymore?

We got BC one of those little plastic training toilets a few months ago after a friend suggested it and put it in the bathroom next to my Big Boy potty.  This placement was supposed to subliminally teach the Little Dude what the potty is intended for. Unfortunately the main thing he seems to think it’s used for is a place to lounge while unspooling rolls of toilet paper.  

Our son’s pediatrician said my wife and I should leave the door open to let BC watch us go to the bathroom so he can see what all the hype is about. It seems strange that I’m supposed to talk the bathroom up to him as though it’s a great place, like Disneyland or something.  Then I lead him into a place with a grimy commode, a wet floor and some weird green stuff lingering on the sink.  Seems more like Magic Mountain to me.

When we are in a public place I usually take BC with me to the bathroom because I don’t feel comfortable leaving him with the weird old man who greets people at the store entrance. What inevitably ends up happening is I try to keep my balance and complete my mission while he simultaneously watches me and plays a game of chicken with his finger and the nearby urinal cake.

Before a recent trip, my wife went to buy some overnight diapers.  Apparently the store had run out of our usual brand so she got some pull-up style overnight diapers.  Since we were leaving the next day, we had no other option.  At least they had Lightning McQueen on them. Whatever that is.

The pull-ups worked out fine, especially since BC now refuses to lie down while being changed. I guess when your body is longer than your changing table, you can elect that option.  These days he generally wiggles and dances while being changed and I end up pulling the flaps on his diaper shut, hoping I got full coverage on both essential regions and praying for no whammies. 

So back to this morning, I was happy that he was able to convey his crucial message and hoped he hadn’t slept in it for too long, causing a mess and making him resemble Augustus Gloop after he’d fallen in the chocolate river. 

I was still half asleep when I opened his diaper to find that it was wet, but that was the only damage done.  So I looked at him and inquired about his apparently false claim. He looked back at me and reiterated forcefully “Pooh! Pooh!”  So I figured he was just being the boy who cried wolf and so I told him that the next time he said “Poo!” and didn’t possess any, I’d make him sit in it for a while as a lesson.

Then as I got him dressed and looked down at his used diaper waiting to be thrown out, it suddenly hit me. No, not the smell.  The image of Winnie the Pooh lounging next to his pal Tigger on BC’s used Huggie. Not pictured: me with egg on my face.

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--JJ aka The Dude of the House

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