Thursday, February 11, 2010

Potty Talk

Oh the potty. Such a joy when they start using it, not so fun when they discuss it...all the time.

My kids might not be good sleepers and we might have more than our fair share of tantrums over the most ridiculous of events, but my kids can pee and poop in the potty with no problems. It is a gift. I have had zero effort put in to getting them to use the potty and both have been done by age 2 1/2 . I don't have good advice for anyone on how to make this happen. I claim no responsibility other than putting underwear on them and placing them on the toilet when they asked. It is great.

Unfortunately, with the recent transition of Cole from diapers, we have a new fascination in our house with "potty talk." His heightened focus on pee and poop, coupled with his big brother's giggles at the mention of the word poop, poopy, or toot has magnified their use of these and related words to a level that I find, well....really freaking annoying.

Cole takes an excessive amount of time to poop on the potty. Other children in his mother's day out class are actually wetting their pants while waiting for Cole to get off the freakishly small child potty in their classroom. We have been late (ok, even more late) to almost anything we are going to, due to Cole's need to sit forever, claiming to still be pooping. During these long trips to the restroom he most often attempts to demand my presence right next to the toilet so that he can talk to me about "the talking poo-poo." This is a long conversation about how the poo-poo wants to come out and take a bath in the water, needs to be coated in the magic sprinkle soap over his whole body and likes to play. It doesn't sound like much but this conversation can last a long time, is very repetitive and honestly gross.

I can ask what they would like for a snack and they will tell me "poopy snack." What are you doing? "Tooting." What is that adorable picture you just drew? "Poop." Seriously? What is wrong with you? As I type I am currently being shot with a "poop gun" by Cole. (Do not be alarmed, it is actually a foam, blue bat. No actual poop is being used. They have not gone so far with this fascination that they have learned to construct something that will actually fire feces...yet.)

We have entire arguments between Aiden and Cole about whether the other one is, or is not, a "poopy head." I try not to intervene because really the only thing I can think to say is that they both are in fact both "poopy heads" and I am gravely concerned for their future. Their suggestions for names for their baby sister on the way consist primarily of Poop, Garbage, and Kate (because that was Arthur's baby sister's name.) Believe it or not we are not actually considering any of these names, primarily because Poop Dadidakis just doesn't sound like a potentially shining future for a young lady.

Our neighbor recently asked if I would be willing to let her give Cole a language development test as part of her job. As she is giving the test to him he was doing really well, entering the 3 and sometimes 4 year old levels of language comprehension (this I do claim responsibility for because I feel it is more exciting to be the reason someone is excelling at language than basic bodily functions related to the toilet.) I do admit I was proud, perhaps even feeling a little smug, some might say. Then, he decided every answer was poop. Not feeling so awesome anymore. I know I shouldn't be embarrassed by these things because he's two, but I just don't enjoy the word poop being used to my 60 year old neighbor, she seems really classy and like she might not find that cute. His reputation and mine were ruined, Aiden's only slightly tarnished because he just giggled a little and moved on.

I have always known that having boys would probably mean an excessive amount of burping, farting and potty humour. I had predicted, however, this would be concentrated in the late elementary to junior high years, I was very wrong.

1 comment:

Amy Pollak said...

The first word Drew spelled on his own and wrote on a piece of paper was "poop." He was drawing on a paper and I asked him what he was doing and he said writing. I looked at it and it was very undeniably the word poop, tho scattered about the page and not in a straight line. I didn't know if to be proud he new how to spell and write something (this was years ago!) or mortified at what he chose to write. In the end I just laughed. That's life with boys, and I wouldn't change it for anything. :)