I really do promise that not all of my posts will have to do with potty-training, but when you live with a 2 1/2 year-old, well, such is life. And this IS life in the parsonage....potty-mouths and all. I have been developing a really great spiritual blog in my head, though, so no sweat, my pet (to quote the great Steve Irkel)....I'll get back to God-talk soon enough.
Just before I got into the shower, I was using the facilities. We pretty-well have an open-door policy on the bathroom, since it gives Abigail an open view of "Everybody Poops" (remember that bestseller?). She does understand what "I need some privacy" means, and often uses it herself on us, usually when she wants us to close the door so she can splash water all over the sink or empty out a shampoo bottle in the bathtub while fully clothed. Note to self: No toddler needs privacy.
Here was our conversation while she watched me go potty:
Abigail: Are you going poopoo?
Me: Yes.
Abigail: Are you DROPPING A DEUCE?
Wow, Paul, thanks so much for teaching her that. That is exactly why our next child needs to be a boy. Don't get me wrong, I am perfectly happy in the world of Disney princesses, sequins, pink ruffles, and pigtails that make your stomach do flips they are so cute. I could happily live in a world of girls until they are at least 12, in which case I am taking their preteen (or "tween") bottoms to their Memaw and Papa's house to live until college. They got through it once, they can do it again, right? But Paul makes it very clear that he needs a boy to talk poop with, to talk baseball with, to wrestle with (same reason he gives for needing a dog...a big dog). He needs a boy that can say proudly, "I gotta drop a deuce" and high fives will ensue.
Number 2 reason why Paul needs a son?
Because when Abigail watches wrestling with Paul, she says the wrestlers are wearing their "big boy panties." Oh, I love it.
This list is going to be good.
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2 comments:
Ha! Well, Natalie laughs hysterically when someone "toots" (including herself) and is always running out of the bathroom to tell Daddy what her poop looked like ("It looked like a boat!"), so maybe you don't really need a son -- maybe you just need a NATALIE! :-)
you make even writing about poop look great! You are cracking me up!!
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