Potty talk

You know why I’m so bad about posting? Because I don’t get to it until this time at night… 11 p.m…. by which point I’m already tired and sick of being on computers.

But, I’ve been feeling bad about not posting. It’s like I jilted a lover. So, here are three quick stories. They all involve going to the bathroom — a sure-fire hit among any gang of readers.

As I’ve said before, I have a young daughter — she’s 4 now. She’s been potty trained for a good year or so, but is still discovering her body, her words, and her understanding of how the two collide.

The other day she was sitting on the pot, groaning. “It won’t come out!” she said in exasperation.


“My poo-poo!” She sighed. “My poo-poo is sleeping.”

Ah yes, that nefariously restful poo.

Later, we were eating. I asked her what happens to her food when she eats.

“It goes into my tummy. If it’s wet, it comes out as pee. If it’s hard, it comes out as poo.” She looked at me like I was an idiot. I guess in some ways I am.

Finally, the other day I biked her to the zoo. It’s about 9 miles away. I loaded her into this great (though worn) bike trailer, hitched it up to my mountain bike, and took off. Going through the city, winding through bike paths and the Mall, pulling 50 pounds (her 35 plus the trailer) and fighting the wind, it took me about an hour to get there. And I was beat.

No matter, we walked around the zoo, looked at animals, had lunch, and enjoyed the morning. After a while she announced, “I have to pee!” She was doing the pee-pee dance big time and there wasn’t a bathroom in sight.

I loaded her onto my shoulders and looked everywhere for a bathroom. The reptile house? No. The great ape house? No. The souvenir shop? No.

Worried, I asked Sam how she was holding up. “I really need to go!” she said with some serious warning behind it.

“Ok,” I answered. “I’m looking!” Remember, she was on my shoulders. “No, you’re not going to pee on me, are you?”

“No,” she answered. “I’ve got my vagina closed.” Then she opened her knees and said, “Now it’s open!”

I’m not sure who’s going to need more therapy, me or her.

Anyway, we made it to the bathroom in time, though she did feel the need to comment on her being a “girl,” and us using the “boy’s” bathroom, as she stared in awe at the urinals. She also made me wipe her bottom. The joys of fatherhood.

On the ride back home, she napped while I exhausted myself. Luckily, I have quite the good girl. Back the house, I fell asleep while she played quietly on the floor with her puzzles.

Anyway, I’ll endeavor to do better with more postings.

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