Poop by Any Other Name
Though forewarned, I had no idea that when I became a mother I would talk about poop more than I did over the course of eight years at sleep-away camp. Baby poop, infant poop, toddler poop- all differ in size, color and consistency, each with their own corresponding attitude. The newborn poop is mellow and yellow, spewing forth often when the diaper is off, a slight, not quite unpleasant fragrance. The infant poop, with the onset of solid foods, also solidifies and is a definite stink bomb. My daughter imitates the way I breath heavily through my mouth when I open the diaper bucket to avoid the smell of saturated shit. Toddler poop is a whole new ball game. Not that it is so different from infant poop, but that she is now standing up and with her mobility comes some awkward poop moments. The most recent one being the bathtub poop.
My daughter has gotten into the habit of pooping in the bathtub. I’ve tried everything. I threw her on the potty as soon as I saw the signs, but she hated it and wouldn’t release her bowels. I tried putting the potty in the tub, but she wouldn’t have it. She waited until I looked away and then let one out. This results in the immediate evacuation from the tub, scooping out the poop, draining the tub and sanitizing all the toys. Not a lovely after dinner ritual. One night, she began to poop standing up. This is the moment that you never foresee when you become a mother. I reached out and caught her turd in my hand, tossed it in the toilet, washed my hands, washed her butt and was more than proud of my feat. I think it might be time to potty train.
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