And I'm sorry because turd is such an ugly word.
But using "Talking to a Bowel Movement" just didn't have the same effect.
This is a short story, but it's too funny to pass up. It could be TMI for some, so leave now if you can't handle "bathroom talk." That was your warning.
So, if you're reading Sarah's blog at all you know that we have a potty using fiend in our midst. Celie is sort of obsessed with using the potty.
("I have no idea where she gets her obsessive tendencies from," said the man who has a six-tab excel spreadsheet with six different versions of a choir seating chart for the Easter musical.)
In a later post we'll talk about my other obsessive tendencies like:
- consuming endless amounts of peanut M&M's if they're in my house
- watching, reading or listening to anything that really irritates me, because it irritates me
- constantly monitoring the growth or shrinkage of my belly
- popping whiteheads - I know, I'm sorry
- continuously wondering what I would do if I won $100,000,000.00 - seriously, like thinking about the lot I would buy and the house I would build on it
But we'll do that later. Much, much later.
Later = probably never.
So anyway, Celie now has full use of the potty. Numbers one and two. Which is great. So I get her up this morning (even though the look on her face said, "Why are you in here at 6:30 AM?????" except, because of the wonderful Daylight Savings Time, it was really 7:30) and she mentioned her need to go to the potty. I help her take off her pj's and diaper and off she went into the bathroom. When she made it into the bathroom, I heard her let out an enormous gasp.
Keep in mind Sarah has pretty much trained her to gasp at any and everything. Literally, it's like the biggest gasp ever.
So, of course I became immediately filled with anxiety when I heard the gasp thinking that there was probably a river of pee pee on the floor or on the floor mats and Lilly was probably licking it up. (which was going to make me puke if that was the case and then there would have been two messes to clean up.)
But neither was the case. Whew.
I walked in to see Celie practically head first in the toilet and she was talking up a storm. She heard me walk in and pulled her head out from the toilet and gasped again and said:
"Look daddy, poo poo in the potty!!! Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeey poo poo!!! Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeey poo poo!!"
We apparently forgot to flush her poo-poo from last night and therefore Celie found a new friend.
So, of course, I overreacted and first thought, "Who forgets to flush poo-poo?"
Parents of a two year old, that's who.
(Why do I keep saying "poo-poo" when I'm not telling the story?)
I continued, "Well, let's flush the poo-poo ok? It's dirty."
Of course Celie had to assist because she loves a good toilet flush - and who doesn't?
"Bye-bye poo-poo," she said and back on to the potty she went. Except when you don't flush poo-poo from the night before, sometimes it likes to hang out a little longer if you know what I mean. This then created another reason for Celie to gasp and say:
"New poo-poo in the potty!!!"
"No, no Celie. It isn't new. It was leftover." (Lord help me!) "It didn't all go down the first time so it's still there."
"OK." she said.
So after she asked me to leave the room ( she really needs her privacy when using the restroom, not sure where she gets that either) which is another favorite pastime, I hear with a grunt, "NNNNeeeewwww pppppoooooooooo-pppppoooooooooo."
And sure enough.
New poo-poo in da house.
Thank you Celie for another action-packed Monday morning.
Sorry if this was a little TMI, but it's a two-year old we're talking about, not a 30 year old.
