Potty training is so (not) rewarding. It just warms the heart to see your little darling run up to you and proudly announce that he has successfully pooped by himself. This is a true, pretty much word-for-word story from last week.
Thing: Mama! I poop like Lucy!
Me: (thinks, Lucy is a dog, how the he…oh crap). Um, that’s great – did you flush?
Thing: Nope, not in terlit, like Luce inna dewt!
Stanky: Yeah, yeah, uh, mom, momma, mommy, Thing, he, um, he, he just pooped in the yawd.
Dramasaur: Seriously, mom, he totally pulled his pants down, copped a squat in front of the bush and took a dump. Totally. It looks like dog poop.
Me: (hyperventilating a little) And you just WATCHED him do it?! What were you thinking?! Who poops in the YARD?!! DISGUSTING, all of you! GROSS!!! Grab some toilet paper and clean it up!
Grumpasaur: (who was also outside and managed to miss this entire situation) Wait, what’s going on? Who pooped?
Stanky: Dad, dad, daddy, Thing just pewped a tuhd like Lucy on the duht and it looks like Lucy poop but it’s not it’s Thing-poop and mom’s mad.
Grumpasaur: (manfully repressing guffaws) uh, ok, lets go check it out and clean it up.
Dramasaur: Don’t worry, I cleaned it up. (hefts large slab of tree bark with greenish blob stuck to the end).
Me: Don’t you DARE…not through the HOUSE! Oh for the love of…DRAMA!! Do NOT TAKE THAT IN THE HOUSE!
Stanky: Well where we s’posed to take it?
Me: The GARBAGE or something!
Grumpasaur: Well, at least he didn’t poo-paint the walls this time.
And that’s the silver lining of this particulary cloud.