The Parental Potty-Mouth

This post has been inspired by my 2 year-old, DestructiCon. Today, he wanted to call me and let me know he had farted. The Wife had him text it instead, which he did. “I d. Farterd”

I am so proud.

I am flabbergasted by some of the conversations my wife and I have that revolve around the scatological processes of the young human body. It starts in pregnancy when a bean-sized human begins growing and throwing off the female hormones, or Pregnancy Juices. Then, our doctors told us to track the pooping patterns of our newborn to make sure it was the right color, consistency, and frequency. Early on, the poop changes from a black tar-like substance to what can only be called… Baby-Dodo. If you are breastfeeding your child, it has a tangy bite to the smell. However, if you child is on formula, it smells like they found something dead and put it in their diaper.

As solids are introduced to the eating equation, the level of putrid-ness of the diaper grows. There have been times where my son would not poo for a day, then the next morning there would be a pushing out of the cork, then Mt. St. Helens will erupt from his little tooshie soon after. If you have not cleaned up poop from a place called “Everywhere” then you just have not lived. My daughter was nice enough as a toddler to take her poop and spread it everywhere (I was finding more days after I thought I had cleaned it up), and my son crop-dusted the floor with droplets.

One of the worse experiences, is when your child eats what you eat, but is not yet potty-trained. I often find myself looking for the grown adult who is dropping payloads into my kids’ diapers. When it comes time to train your child to use the porcelain light at the end of the diaper tunnel, talking about poop and pee (and even cheering about it) becomes normal. I can’t remember talking about farting and pooping and peeing this much since college, and I look forward to the day when that little face comes running around a corner screaming the 5 most magical words any parent could hear: I POOPED IN THE POTTY!



The Beginning
About ManvDadhood

I am a man, and by my wife’s standards that makes me flawed. My challenge to parents, and to myself, is not to teach my kids about the kind of person I hope them to become one day, but to become that person today.

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