“I NEED TO POOP!”
It was the tenth time X had yelled that very obvious statement while pacing back and forth between the living room and kitchen. Perched on his tiptoes you could tell he was clinching his tush just as hard as humanly possible.
“So go poop.”
“Do you want a diaper?”
“Well, honey, everybody poops. I don’t know what to tell you. You can go on the potty or you can go in a diaper. You let me know.”
Note: I really didn’t want him to take me up on the diaper offer because he hasn’t used a diaper at all in two weeks and I’m just fine with that thankyouverymcuh.
TMI: I also needed to poop too (Everybody poops, people. Don’t be grossed out.) but I was holding off because I knew- I knew– that the second my ass hit the toilet seat XC would decide he had to go potty.
So I waited…and waited…and waited. A half hour. And then, I couldn’t wait anymore, so I headed to the bathroom.
“I NEED TO POOP RIGHT NOW!”
Oh of COURSE he did.
So I paced. With my ass clinched. On my tiptoes. While XC took the longest poop of his life.
And then, when I finally got to take my turn, the little nugget came up and pushed on my tummy. “Your belly is jiggly mom!” he said with glee.