Ah, potty talk. In a house that is full of testosterone, it is one topic that everyone just loves to talk about. Want to make any of my boys (yes, this includes Hubz) smile? Say the word, “poop”. Funny, right?
I think their sense of humor is rubbing off on me…or maybe it’s the sleep deprivation talking….whatever it is, I warn you that the following story has to do with poop…and I kind of find it amusing.
Today when we got home from school, Tate had to go relieve himself. After quite a dramatic production, and several exaggerated grunting sounds, my child beckoned, ” Heeelllppp me! I need help…I pooping.” (Yes, he meant he pooped, but hey, at least I knew to come running.)
We got him squared away…and it came time for my little guy’s favorite part…the grand finale….the BIG FLUSH. Flushing the potty is like crack for my sensory kid. He loves the sound. The motion. The swirling. The movement. The disappearance of bodily waste (and random other objects) down to an abyss that he can only dream about…or have nightmares about…it is something he perseverates about. He is quasi-OCD about flushing the toilets.
Now, where was I?? Oh yes, the BIG FLUSH. So he flushed the toilet, and much to his chagrin, some shtuff would not go down. He impulsively flushed again, and again…I started to panic as the water got closer and closer to the top of the toilet. I told him the potty needed a break.
“Like a time out?”, he asked.
“Exactly…a time out.”
The water receded from the edge, and Tate seemed ok with waiting a bit. I left and got busy helping Cole with something. Suddenly, I heard it..
“Tate, leave it alone….it needs a rest!”, I shouted.
“It’s too squicky, Mommy.”
“Let it be…”
“No, Mommy. Too squicky.” (Hands flapping, side-stepping anxiety dance going on.)
I grabbed him, squeezed tightly, and tried to calm him down.
“One more time, Mommy?”
“Ok…once more.” (Feeling deflated.)
“Yay! It is gone!! Poops are stiiiin-keeeeyyy. Pee-yew, gross.” (I totally laughed at this. I probably shouldn’t have, but it was just kind of funny…)
His mission accomplished, Tate bounced out of the bathroom, underwear bunched up outside of his waistband, edge of his shirt absent-mindedly tucked in, happy as a pig in….poop!