Ahh, potty training.

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Recently, my brother mentioned that his latest project (he’s an illustrator) involves drawing things that are kind of icky.  There is even the possibility that he’ll be sketching some scat.  There was an email exchange that featured my mom saying something along the lines of “that’s all fine and good for boys, but a female illustrator could never do that job – it’s against the girl code”  That’s a rough interpretation of her quote… 

Of course, I argued that I would not have any problem illustrating doo doo and could probably offer a selection of realistic colors to my clients as well.  Mom then scoffed at my “rule breaking” tendencies (I don’t know what she’s talking about) and agreed that of all women in the world, I probably could pull this assignment off.

I don’t think my son was in on these communications, especially since he can’t read… but today he set out to prove his mommy right.  I definitely DO have first-hand experience with poop, the most recent being today. 

Griffin has been learning to use the potty, and he’s doing very, very well with the pee-pee side of things.  In fact, yesterday and today he was dry all day at the daycare.  So today, when we got home and he was passing a lot of gas, and saying his tummy hurt, I suggested he needed to go sit on the potty and try to poop.  He argued that he only needed to “toot”, and I let it go.  Fifteen minutes or so later my daughter came to tell me there was a disaster in the bathroom.  Uh oh.

Griffin had apparently decided to take it upon himself to go potty on his own, and instead of getting it in the toilet, it landed on the floor.  I’ll let you imagine the result – you don’t need the graphic details.  Gotta love parenthood.  It’s an endless source of experiential fodder for writing and drawing projects.

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About Laurie

I have too many hobbies, but have finally learned (sort of) how to focus on one at a time and stifle my desire to add more. ;) I'm a mom, a wife, a writer, an artist, a seamstress, a gardener, a backyard-chicken farmer, a fundraiser, a movie-lover, a book hoarder, a junker, a thrift-store-shopper... I also love to laugh, make people happy, and take road trips. Some of these things make it into blog posts. I'm almost 50 and I'm still able to sleep through the night. I consider that a success.

7 responses »

  1. The 60’s…**I** burned no bras in the 60’s…I was raising girl-child and having boy-child. So, you see, I missed that phase of my evolutionary development from my parent’s world of narrow-mindedness into the psychodelic world of “anything goes”….but I’m learning even now.

  2. I wondered when I read this account how old young Griffin is. I mind my grandaughter three or four times a week and we are at the same stage in the toilet training. For some reason she “saves” doing poos until we put a nappy ( diaper) on her for her sleep times.
    Mind you then she often changes her own nappy if you are not quick enough, yesterday the “cream” she used afterwards was Vicks vapour rub!

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