Warning: This blog post is TMI.
I’m just going to admit it now: I talk about poop WAY too much. I came from a family that thought poop was funny and enjoyed a good poop joke, often at the dinner table, and much to the chagrin of any non-poop-obsessed visitors who happened to join us for dinner. I remember a few shocked and embarrassed faces of particularly proper or WASP-y childhood friends that had the misfortune of visiting the Rosas house during dinner (AKA Poop Joke TIme). Factor into this that I’ve had a raging case of IBS almost every day of my life, a wonky gall bladder and a “nervous” tummy, and, well, let’s just say much of my day is spent thinking about poo. So, yeah, I talk about it a lot. And then I married a guy who also came from a family that talked about poop a lot. When Josh and I filled out our match.com profiles, there wasn’t a checkbox for “enjoys a good poop anecdote,” but damn it, there should have been! Nonetheless, Poop Talker met and wed Poop Talker and then we gave birth to a lovely child who really had no chance of NOT being a Poop Talker. And once we reached the potty training stage, well, I’d wager we say the word poop or potty at least 50 times a day in our house.
So Hailey freely talks about poop, and I was a little nervous about this when she started school for the first time earlier this month. But so far, she seems to show a greater degree of decorum in public than her parents, and I haven’t gotten any notes home from her teachers saying, “Your child has a potty mouth!” So, phew. Sidenote: When we filled out the registration paperwork for Hailey’s school they asked what we called poop in our house…i.e., “number two,” “make,” “poo poo?” (Side-Sidenote: Who the hell says, “make?” I don’t even understand this reference.) “Poop,” I wrote into the questionnaire. “For God’s sake it’s poop; why dance around it?”
When we potty trained Hailey, and she pooped in the toilet for the first time, she insisted on taking a selfie near the toilet and sending it to her Papa (grandpa). She was so proud. Later in the potty training, she was playing and asked me if I wanted to come to a party. “What will we do at the party?” I asked. “Play games, kick stuff and poop!” she exclaimed. Sounded like my kind of party.
Last week my dad and I picked Hailey up from school and she got in her car seat and asked if we could get lunch at Starbucks. “Sure,” I said. “Great,” she said, ” except I know I’m going to get (in low, scary voice) DI-A-RRHEA!” My dad looked at me, holding back a laugh, and just shook his head. “That’s all you,” he said accusingly. Maybe, and maybe it’s inappropriate and gross. Or maybe my kid just has a really healthy attitude about potty time and one hell of a sense of humor. Yes, I’m going with that.