With kids come so many anecdotes related to poop. MM used to do a dipstick test, sticking his finger down his crack and pulling up a dollop of poop. Thankfully he was so good about patiently holding his little chocolate lollilop in the air as he called for my attention. No mess was ever made. TL, on the other hand, reaches down from the front and simply grabs. Unlike her brother, however, she has no qualms making a mess with the poop she has discovered. She once smeared poop all over the pack’n’play at daycare, and there were two poop fiascos at home as she redesigned her bed sheets with streaks and splotches of brown.
Neither are potty-trained yet. Neither show much interest.
MM (now two and a half years old) finally showed some initiative this week to pee in the potty once in a while. So I started a casual sticker chart. Emphasis on “casual” since he resists the potty the moment he senses pressure or schedules. So far, the self-paced sticker chart seems to be encouraging his inner motivation. Here’s to hoping…
A couple days ago, I was overly optimistic (or just delusional) and decided to let him try his big boy underpants. He loved having Lightning McQueen plastered over his butt. The first potty break before lunch was successful. Then, as he ate his lunch, he peed on the chair. Okay, no big deal. Let’s try again. An hour later, he pooped in his underwear while playing on the floor. He comes up to me and tells me, “Mommy, I made mess, need to clean up!” But he doesn’t point to the lump of turd that is now all squished up against his butt. No, ofcourse not. That turd simply doesn’t exist. Instead he points to a slightly damp spot on the rug where he had been sitting when the deed was done. Great. Poop juice. MM squatted next to me and curiously stared at the wet spot on the rug, trying to pretend that it had no direct relation to the lump of turd that’s still sitting there in his underwear.
To make matters worse, TL also pooped in her cloth diaper. She didn’t tell me right away. Ofcourse not; That would be too easy. In the spirit of independence, she decided to help herself to some diaper wipes nearby and try to wipe herself while sitting on the couch. Then she comes up to me and matter-of-factly hands me the diaper wipe. I stared at her in disbelief. Is this what I think it is? More poop to clean up??
Off to the shower.
Butts cleaned up.
Both kids down for a nap after a more protests.
Rug cleaned up.
Couch cleaned up. (Gotta love leather.)
Collapse in bed. Stare at the ceiling.
Sanity intact by a thread.
One day, I tell myself.