Ohmigod, belladonna please don’t tell us you left a 15-month-old alone in a tub of water while you went into another room? Please, please, please say that someone else was in the bathroom with your son?
Now besides that total moment of panic, I want to thank you all for making me feel that, despite how much grief my children are putting me through now at 20 and 18, I must have been blessed by the potty-training fairy. I never, ever had to worry about stepping in piles of poop, and nobody ever peed inappropriately. I can remember one floating turd in the tub, and a few accidents, but no power-tripping with the potty chair and definitely no smearing!
But my neighbor’s kid used to run and squat in the bushes outside to poop in his pants, and would scream bloody murder if she tried to scoop him up and put him on the pot. When they moved, she gave me the carpet that had been in his room. She’d cleaned it, but apologized for “a few stubborn stains”. It was lovely pale yellow carpet, but when we unrolled it, the dark stains were quite numerous. Now it didn’t smell…she’d steamcleaned it very thoroughly… but there were many, many spots. I asked her what had gotten on it, and she said, “oh, Matthew likes to play with his poop in the morning when he wakes up”!
And my sister’s child… was so intent on not pooping in the potty that there were several visits to the doctor for stool softeners because the dear child had held it in for so long that constipation resulted (which of course makes it painful to poop and starts a whole vicious cycle) I think it took a whole year to finally resolve that one.
Kids are so much fun…!!!
Last night I was left in charge of the 3 grandkids while everyone else ran errands. I see 3 year old Jojobean out jumping on the trampoline with his twin sisters, Weechy and Sambone, bouncing up and down, every 3rd bounce landing on his butt. Both twins at almost the same time start calling for me, claim Jojobean smells real bad. I call him from my office window and ask if he has to go to the bathroom. He says no. Of course he doesn’t have to go anymore, he already went. I get him in the house and have him take off his shorts and underwear. His turd was formed perfectly to his butt crack, from the very top all the way to his little Jojoballs. It has the consistency of Playdoh but is twice as sticky. It took me 10 minutes to clean him up including the breaks to let my gag reflex subside.
Just after I put clean underwear and shorts on him he claims he has to go again. He climbs on the pot while I retreat to my office (they are next to each other). A few minutes later he says he is done. I go into the bathroom and he shows me what he left. Great Mother McCready of the Holy Church (an expression my grandmother used). I ask Jojobean if he is okay and does anything hurt. He says no. I look in the toilet again. I’m thinking mine aren’t that big. The only thing I could think of for a size comparison is a soda pop can. It was only 4 or 5 inches long but it is extremely thick. When his mother came home later, she claimed his turds have always looked like that. It hurts now even thinking about it.
I would just like to take this moment to thank you with all my heart for never indulging in fecal artwork, public displays of voiding prowess, or poop subterfuge.
All you ever did was puke on every sweater I owned, and I’ll take that in a heartbeat every time.
Why did I open this thread?
Because I have small children too.
And threads like this make m feel so much better. I know that I am not alone.
Thank you, Bren, for totally making my day. I laughed so hard that Johnzilla, my own 2 1/2 year old son (and Paidhi Boy’s Spiritual Twin–just trust me on that one) asked me if I was okay.
“Yes, Mama’s fine…just laughing at a story about a little boy who’s just like you…”
Bren, reading your OP made me feel young again! It brought back memories of my children’s poopy days (back in the seventies.)
I clearly recall one fateful morning. I awakened on my own, which seemed just unnatural. The baby always woke me up in the morning, why is it so quiet in the nursery? I padded down the hallway and entered my daughter’s room. She had awakened at dawn, stripped naked (including diaper), and pooped on her crib sheets. She had made good use of her time, and finger-painted the wall and crib with poo. Winnie-the-Pooh, indeed! When I found her, she was extruding a chunk of poo through her fingers. She was very proud of her efforts.
Flash-forward 20-odd years. Her progeny, my grandson, was spending the weekend with me. He was potty-trained, but if he went #2, he insisted that an adult wipe his butt. My grandson proudly declared that he had to “Go Poop!!” and toddled off to the bathroom. He then called out “Gramma! I need you to wipe my butt!” I went into the bathroom, and proceeded to wipe his butt. He kept telling me “There’s more! Keep wiping!” I wiped his hiney three times “Gramma, there’s more!” with the toilet paper, to no avail. “Gramma, there’s still more!” I finally had to soap up a washcloth to sanitize his butt-cheeks to his satisfaction.
I chuckled while doing so, when it dawned on me that his Momma had to do that for him everyday. [insert Evil Gramma smilie]
My granddaughter is two, and takes care to close the lid on the potty chair, and then pee on the lid. At least she’s consistent…
I only opened this thread to confirm that there was, in fact, a reason I have never reproduced. I have enough trouble dealing with cats who occasionally deposit their waste products in unauthorized locations. Had I been forced to deal with the situations described above you would all now be discussing me in one of those “how could parents do this to their own children?” threads.
Fortunately, I am aware of my limitations (which is also why I don’t drive).