Sunday, December 11, 2011

How to kill a mocking turd...

Warning: putting an end to a tyrant turd may require attempts to grab it out, or asking a bystander to go fetch a rope.

Let me preface this story by sharing some of the highlights of potty-training Son #1. His fascination with all things deposited in the toilet has no rival, and his running commentary leaves me breathless with anticipation. His comments have ranged from, and I quote (because yes, I've written these down): "Mommy, please move. I have to drop another bomber." to "Whoa. That's a big poop to put in a little bum." to "That poor little poop. He's so little. He's all by himself. He's going to fly back into my bum to find his family."  He's four. I suspect by the time he's a teenager, he'll be dictating novellas from the john.

And don't ask me where he gets his material. When gripped with need, my thought process rarely veers from (the ridiculously clever): "God, I need to hit the can."

And he always wants company. To him, privacy would be a waste of such fun. Without fail, within seconds of settling on the toilet for his daily constitution, he'll call from the bathroom: "Mommy! Come in here so we can have a chat." To which I inevitably wander in, take a whiff, keel over to the wall and say, "No, Jack. It smells like shit in here. Can we chat later?" He loves this line; it leaves him giggling with mirth, proud and ruthlessly unapologetic of his stench. He then gets all serious and says, "You can't leave, Mommy. I need to rest my head on your arm. It helps me." I suspect Freud, had he the opportunity to study my child, would have added an addendum to his theories on anal stage fixations.

The following video capture lands squarely in the "Whoa. That's a big poop to put in a little bum" category. I didn't measure it. And no, I didn't film the final kill shot. I'm not that sick. But believe me when I say, the end result was not something you'd expect a 4-year old to produce. The Loch Ness Monster perhaps, but not a child.

I'll admit, if pressed to disclose the most disturbing aspect of this story, I'd be at a loss. But it's a definite toss between the following:

  1. That he admitted to trying to grab it out
  2. That he suggested we get a rope (and that I do the tying)
  3. That when summoned, I felt compelled to bring the video-camera.


9 comments:

Anonymous said...

That is hilarious! He is not going to thank you for that in a few years. ;)

Anonymous said...

Haha! That's awesome! I should not have watched this at work, because I could not hold in the laughter!

Wynter said...

I can remember this phase of "my poop is not coming out!" Haha...I love this little man!

Kelle said...

I like poop talk. That is all. Ha ha. That and the fact that I got your beautiful mailer today, and I love it. Hanging on my wall. You are ridiculously beautiful. xo

Teresa said...

That is so holarious....love his expression when he comes up with the solution.....so cute!

jill said...

Jack is the cutest ever!!!!! I am in tears with how absolutely adorable he is......he is going to hate you when he turns 16 and his girlfriend finds this video lol

Raena said...

I'm starting to wonder if you really were
"the coke can bandit " in rez.......

Janita said...

Yes, I realize I'll be heartily thanked for sharing this once he's of age...but for now, it's his favourite "show". I'll admit, if there was a sitcom based entirely on flatulence and poop stories, I'd be all over it like a rash. Is that wrong?
ps. Raena, the coke can bandit was from Thompson...that's all I know. Although I'd love to take credit.

Jenny V said...

Ah...the gritty reality of potty training...what a riot!
The peri bottle on the back of the toilet is a nice touch. :)

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