Its Just All About The PooAllana Harkin
First of all, I’m sorry. But I’m going here…
After I tell soon-to-be first time parents how the love they will feel for their child is incredible, unconditional and like nothing they’ve ever experienced before I usually have the urge to then follow it up with:
“…and you’ll be surprised how comfortable you’ll become with handling poo that isn’t your own. It’s just non-stop poo. Poo all the time! Poo everywhere! Even on your face!…One time. Oh God it was awful.”
Fortunately, I (usually) stop myself. No matter how you slice it (I’m sorry) poo just isn’t romantic. Even the word…poo. But what’s better? Bowel Movement? Sure, go ahead and say it but we’ll all just be thinking you’re trying to find a fancy way to say “poo”.
But truthfully, the reason I’m so obsessed is because I’m on the door step of potty training my second child. And I know what lies beyond that door: It’s a poo-mare. And it’s almost as if the universe is starting to set me up. Just this morning there are TWO mounds of dog feces on my front lawn. TWO. I don’t even own a dog. In my backyard a raccoon lifted up all my new sod and then pooped on the walkway. I’m so desperate to keep out other animals that I’m considering peeing in a glass and marking the lawn.
And children are smart by the way. Very smart. They smell fear. My attempt at a casual, “Hey sweetheart, want to go to the potty?” would most likely go over much smoother if I wasn’t shoving reward candy into my mouth like a lunatic.
My children don’t trust me because I talk about poo the same way I talk about the vegetables I want them to eat:
“It’s so good for you!”
“It will make you feel better!”
“Do you want to learn how to fly in the air LIKE A FAIRY? Do you?” (lies)
And no one is going to buy into “IT’S POO-TACULAR!” I don’t care how old you are.
So here I am. Back in Pootucky, Poosville…but I’m going to do it differently this time. I’m going to play hard to get. Clearly the first time I was desperate and poo can smell that from a mile away. I’m going to be all, “Sure, whatever, go poo whenever or where ever you want.” Confusion will ensue. Poo will eventually just give up and then let nature takes its course.
But if that’s the case I’ll have to keep my fingers crossed that my toddler doesn’t burry her poo in a forest and wipe with a mushroom.
Nature is just so weird.
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