|Hello, poop? Poop, where aaaaaare you?|
Poop is a regular topic of discussion around here. Though I use the term discussion loosely, we just can’t avoid it. It generally looks something like this, gathered around the dinner table:
Me: Bub, tell Mommy what we did today.
Bub: Um, go playground.
Me: No, that’s just not true, Bub. Only Daddy lies to Mommy, please.
Me: Excuse me?
Bub: Hrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Pooooooopiiiiiinng!!! Hrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaa. Hrrrr. Hrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
Me: Oh, are you pooping?
Bub: YES! I’m pooping.
Me: You know, Bub, you don’t HAVE to tell us every time you poop. Especially at the dinner table.
Bub: Hrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaayiiiii. Okay, Daddy. Hrrrrrrrrrr. Hrrrrr. Oooooooohhhhhhh. Hrrrrrrrrr. Oh, hi, yogurt!”
This happens, on average, 82 times a day. In the middle of Target, a bath or a friendly game of Yahtzee. He’s an equal-situational pooper. Alone, with company, doesn’t matter. Most times he’s not actually pooping; it’s all grunt and circumstance. Though it certainly appears to be rather unpleasant, I think he actually enjoys the process. The kid actually has pooping fantasies. I couldn’t possibly make this up.
Just yesterday I walked past his room during naptime. He was talking to himself and his animals, totally normal. However, the topic did catch my attention:
“Poooooooping! I’m poooping. Oh, blue bear pooping? Nooooo. New monkey pooping? Noooo. Mommy no pooping, Daddy no pooping. Bub pooping! (pause) Super bankie!!!*”
*It is unclear as to whether Super Bankie was indeed pooping. However, I can confirm that Bub fed him several Legos and just prior to naptime.