Potty Talk

"I like windy poo!" Rascal announced.

I carefully set down my coffee mug and reached for a tissue. Coffee really burns when it comes out of your nose, I discovered.

Rascal watched me calmly, fiddling with his toy.

"I want to play windy poo right now."

I sat there confused. He looked at me for a moment, then trotted off calling for Kye. Now I knew I had to intervene. Not only can Kye pretty much poop on demand, our latest adventures at the change table have been kinda wild. I love my kid, it's just I'm really starting to wonder if the feeling is mutual.

Rascal heard me coming up fast and decided it was a game. He screeched with delight and ran wildly through the house, fearing and hoping I'd catch him. Our paths recrossed in the playroom.

"I play windy poo!" he crowed. He hadn't forgotten what had started this mad chase.

I started off with a "Now listen, young man..." and went through the whole (often rehashed) discussion about why poop belongs in the potty and is not a toy or other source of entertainment. Kye stood between us, watching the exchange curiously. As my speech wound down with a series of reminders on the main points, Rascal looked increasingly confused.

"I want play windy poo, Mama."

"Sweetie..." I warned.

"But why?"

"Poop is for the potty, mister."

Suddenly Rascal rolled his eyes. "No Mama, no poop! I play windy poo! WINDY POO!" He pointed at a box of Lego.

Hey look! It's Windy Poo and Trigger too! Duh.