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Potty Humor

Potty humor isn’t my preferred style of humor. People often describe my writing as sarcastic, witty or dry. (Sometimes I refer to RJ as people.) Our granddaughter, who turned two on Friday, has forced me to embrace potty humor.     

Yesterday after breakfast I took Eden upstairs to have a little chat while she sat on her potty chair pretending to potty while I…combed my hair. Our bathroom chats are an attempt to preempt her morning…elimination. When she was finished, she walked to the toilet, flushed it and clapped her hands.

“Nice try but I don’t want you to flush the toilet unless you actually go potty,” I said. <Breathe in—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, and ten—breathe out.> “It wastes water.”

Eden hasn't gone potty anywhere besides her diaper but she looks for opportunistic moments—when the baby gates are down or we’re walking past the bathrooms—to make a break for the bathroom to flush the toilet.

She slowly sidles over to the toilet when I’m brushing my teeth or applying makeup. If I don’t keep her in my peripheral vision, her hand is on the handle in a flash. When I scold her for flushing the toilet again, she smiles prettily, claps and says, “Yeah!”  

Four days ago Eden told Pop-pop, “I poo-pooed” and after he changed her diaper, she ran into the bathroom and flushed the toilet.

Three days ago Eden and I were going upstairs to change her diaper when she stuck her hand in the back of her diaper. She stared at her fingers and said “yucky.” We reviewed the incident during her diaper change.  

“Poo is yucky, Eden. <In—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven...oh forget it.> That’s why you need to keep your hands out of your diaper.”

Eden nodded. “Yea, poo is yucky.”

“Right. That’s why we wash our hands. Poo is yucky.”

“Why?” Eden said.

Eden is proud to tell you she’s gone to the bathroom but still strongly committed to her diapers. During yesterdays potty chat, she said, “I poo-poo.” I moved her over a bit to see if I could celebrate the beginning of the end of diapers. She jumped up, ran to the toilet and performed her victory celebration.

I stared at the empty pot. <…one-hundred and one, one-hundred and two, one-hundred and three…>

Things aren’t going according to plan.* Eden hasn’t been trained to go potty—somehow we’ve trained her to obsessively flush the toilet. I’m not going to worry about it though. She probably wants to work for Kohler when she grows up.

*as usual

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We are just ahead of you!!!

Vanessa is three and just got it.  She succumbed to a tiny boy tot at day care who just graduated to "big boy" panties.  We knew we had it and raced to Target to get Dora big girl panties.  She charmingly put them on and went to the potty without help.  Of course, she flushed===that is the fun part.  Counting does help those whose patience is at the breaking point.  My daughter is so much more patient than I ever was; did not have time for nonsense.  She will get it probably closer to three.  Hugs.  

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I'm thrilled to see you in Red Room.

You've given me an idea. I'm going to take Eden to the big girl panty department (sounds weird) and look for signs of inspiration. Pray she doesn't point to the diapers.

You're right about flushing. I didn't think of it being fun until you pointed it out. I feel better.

Take care,


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I had a dog once...

Long ago I had a dog I trained to....well, never mind that; I don't want to sully your charming story with a tale of a dog that learned how to...well, like I said, never mind. Poo is yucky.

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...to sit, fetch, shake or roll over? I'm sure that's what you meant to say.

My sophisticated level of writing (people say so) has been reduced to this. You could say it's in the sh*##...can. 

Thanks (as always) for taking time to read and comment.


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So cute.

I thoroughly enjoyed Eden's celebration and her not yet catching on to the point of the flushing.  I could just see her, and as usual you made me laugh.  (It is much easier to laugh when you are not having to go through the ordeal.)

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Life is an ongoing celebration to a two-year old. Eden's spontaneous bursts of clapping for me singing nursery rhymes, the cat hiding behind a shirt and the sound of hickory nuts hitting the deck are some examples of daily events that bring her joy.  

You reminded me to celebrate this stage of her life as well. It will go by much too quickly.