How did it feel any different than pooping in a diaper, though?
Don’t underestimate the diaper company’s claims of being more absorbent and comfortable. They’re actually true. The one poop he did in his underwear was smushed all over and squeezed against his skin by the tighty whities. There was nowhere for it to comfortably go. It was a terrible mess, and it made him cataclysmically messy.
ETA: Would you rather poop in a diaper, or in snug stretchy underwear?
I find this thread highly entertaining, because I am not a parent.
I am now contemplating where I’d rather poop, thanks for that.
I spent the afternoon with my co-worker and her 3 year old and it was awful. On the one hand he had really good table manners and was polite and said “Excuse me” when he wanted to ask me a question, on the other hand he was a howling monster who wanted to live on top of my 5 month old. Natuurally she started crying and he wanted to soothe her by wrapping himself around her and climbing all over me. I was losing the battle fighting this kid off and his mom just sat there saying “Remember how babies need space. Babies need space. Hey. Babies need space.” So I stress-ate an enormous cookie and we left.
It’s really hard to not be a little judgemental and totally know what I would do in that situation. I really hope I would pull my kid off and not just sit there repeating nonsense… but I can’t really begin to know what I would do.
My daughter is just shy of 11 months old and I swear her father is part mountain goat and just never told me about it. She climbs EVERYTHING. She can’t walk yet without holding herself up but if she gets so much as a finger on something that she can climb she is at the top of it faster than you can blink. We were at the doctor the other day and I was holding her while sitting in a chair waiting for the doctor to come back and she launched herself up over my head to grab a light switch like it was magical or something.
Of course this means that in public places and other people’s homes I get a lot of, “Why don’t you put her down for a bit?” or “Why is she still strapped in her stroller?” Because she will end up on top of your very expensive TV set and destroy it before you have a chance to turn around, that’s why.
Lucky! My daughter just didn’t care if her poop was in her pants, on the floor - but there wasn’t any reason she could figure out to stop what she was doing to visit a toilet.
After that incident, I’d be contemplating pooping on the 3-year-old or the co-worker, frankly.
My younger child is now 12, and I find this thread to be a delightful mixture of rueful nostalgia and that feeling of delicious relaxation across my shoulders that I experience on flights with small crying children who inspire the thought not my problem, not my responsibility, aaaaaahhhhhhh.
I’ve never had to actually make them eat anything they didn’t want to eat, because whenever they make a wacky request, I say, “If I make this, you will eat it.” And they know I really would make them, because of credibility I’ve built up in other situations. So they only go through with it when they’re really sure they’ll like it.
I don’t try to second-guess their weird little kid tastes. Just tonight my son dunked his peanut butter sandwich in a bowl of tomato soup.
That’s just evil! Everyone knows you have grilled cheese with tomato soup!
I’ve got to say, this makes me love having dogs. Every night it’s “Oh, boy! Dog food!!!”.
StG
My people! Dunking a PB&J in it is still my preferred way to eat tomato soup. (Look, everyone has childhood-throwback comfort food days.)
Enjoy the teenage years.
And may God have mercy upon your soul. 
I know. I always read these stories. I know the parents are, or were, super stressed about it, but being at a distance, I can be amused.
And be grateful I cannot have kids now.
My older child is 15. That’s one reason I can mine so much fun out of small-child threads; when he’s being most teenageresque I can at least remind myself while wondering how much whisky I would need to guzzle to forget his latest episode that hey, no more sleep issues and not only do I have no involvement whatsoever in his toilet output any longer but he makes it to the bathroom every single time when he’s sick now. It almost makes up for the discussion we had the other night in which he lost access to the playroom (now with Playstation instead of Duplo) for a day because of his backtalk, and then tried to convince us that we had been joking about his losing said access, and then, when we found him in the playroom in complete and blatent violation of the prohibition we had laid down, he claimed that he hadn’t really done anything wrong because we had been joking about it the whole time. Man, we are such cards! Say, where’d that whisky go?
So, yeah. May God have mercy on all our souls!
My experience with packs of toddlers is that if you put a cap in the ass of the alpha toddler the rest fall into line.
It’s a damn good contraceptive, ain’t it?
Have you ever actually tried to herd a pack of toddlers inside your home? It is like herding cats, once you get some out of the bedroom another pair will be trying to kill each via furniture toppling.
Just the other day I told a friend, a mom struggling with two toddlers “It gets easier.”
And it does… ahhh… (almost-empty-nester here, enjoying the quiet)
That’s what I thought it would be about. When my son was around two he was a runner. If we looked away for even a second he would bolt like an escaping convict. More than once the whole family would be racing after him, shouting for someone up ahead to stop him. It was hard not to laugh when he juked a stock clerk or a shopper who tried to intercept him, like a tiny diaper-clad running back.
My son has almost learned to roll over, and I really should not be reading this thread. I’m thinking teaching him to walk would be a mistake.