The amount of poop is awesome. And please don’t misunderstand: although I am a child of the 80’s, I actually mean “extremely impressive” as opposed to wicked great.

This morning, after I finished taking care of some business of my own, I hear, “Mama, I did something yucky while you were on the potty.” Well, hm. Whatever could that be?

I’ve become a professional “swisher” and think that if I had a second child, I could easily handle cloth diapers — the old school ones, even — because I, apparently, (I never knew) can get down there and swish those little undies in a bowl full of poopy water and not even dry heave. Not a gag, even. That’s almost more awesome than the amount of poop was. Friends tell me they just abandon the messy underwear, but I can’t. These were the first ones I bought for him, in preparation for training, and they have firetrucks on them. Firetrucks, you guys.

Later, he gave me the boy-who-cried-wolf “my belly hurts; I have to go potty!” and so I ushered him in there. He sat. He looked down at his little business and then back up at me and said, “sometimes it takes a little while.” And then he sighed. And then he got down, nothing doing. Within minutes, though, he was teetering around with that tell-tale bowlegged walk and I found myself on my knees again, swishing my hands in a toilet full of foulness.

I have since washed the first layer of skin off my hands. We have little, laid-out, drying underwear all over the house, and the smell of lysol is fresh and pungent in the bathroom. At least he seems to be pee-trained. Yes, at least there’s that.

2 thoughts on “Awesome.

  1. Chris convinced Max that if he (Chris) tipped Max side to side it helps the poop come out. He also convinced him that sipping water while on the potty helps him to poop.

    Hope he stops befouling the firetrucks soon!

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