After taking more than an hour of non-parenting time to find my way back into my Google account, I am finally ready to start typing. That it's time for daughter #1 to wake up is a small, but significant, detail. We'll see how this goes.
So, about my morning.
For quite some time now, E has been most interested in poop: her poop, her sister's poop, her parents' poop, and the dogs' poop. She helps Daddy scoops poop and is apparently quite a fantastic "spotter" of the poop. And unless she is distracted, E requests to see all of the other above-mentioned poop whenever it is available.
As consumed by this topic as she seems to be, E is not interested in discussing how someday her poop may end up in the potty. She likes having a potty and using it as a step stool (no pun intended). She likes opening her potty, sitting on it, and pushing toilet paper between her legs into the potty. She likes sitting on the potty with her diaper on.
So we have a potty issue. I realize that most parents of toddlers have potty issues. It seems only natural (again, no pun intended). So Daddy I have become creative in how we are helping E take a greater personal interest in the process of pottying.
Which brings us to this morning. And let me just say at the outset, E was in rare form today (this is also a pun, but the reader won't understand until the end of the story). And let me say if you are squeamish about poop (that would be me), and you made it this far past the title, now might be a good place to excuse yourself from the discussion.
Following a friend's example, I started dumping E's poop in the potty under certain circumstances; that is, (1) if the BM could be effortlessly separated from the diaper, (2) if it was one mass and (3) if E insisted on "seeing my poop."
E finds this process fascinating. So today we were in the bathroom, having just watched Mommy dump the contents of E's diaper in the potty. As she proudly peered into the bowl, E said, "See it, Mommy? Look at it - there's my poop!"
And the brilliant parenting comment I made? I said, "E, did you know that if you sat on the potty and pooped, you could look at it, too? It would look just like this." Her eyes opened wide.
Then she started the happy potty dance and sang: "There's me, there's my poop!" She lifted the Elmo potty seat up, stuck her head through it, and laughed and laughed. She paused for a moment, leaned over the bowl and asked, "Mommy, do you want to look at the triangle-floating poop?" What?? Of course, then, I was required to feign interest and say, "Wow, yes, wow!" because really, what do you say? (And in case anyone was wondering - her description was completely accurate. No more questions.)
"Let's flush, E."
"No, I just want to keep looking. Not flush."
E spotted one of the dogs walking by the open doorway. "Andy, look at the poop!" E shouted. "Andy looks at the poop and eats the poop. He doesn't see poop - he eats his poop. His poop. The poop that's outside." She was completely delighted with herself and her poop summary.
And then I finally begin to understand, at a very deep level, that the poop obsession has really only just begun.
