Scene: The handicapped stall in a public bathroom at the local fabric store. Present: me and Jeffrey. Eric and Abby are with a sitter so I can make some deliveries and pick up some new fabric swatches. It is over 100 degrees here today, like much of the US.
Jeffrey is dancing a jig, crossing his legs and gyrating like a hot bean while I try and pull his sweaty tighty-whiteys down.
“But Mommmmmm….” he protests, “I don’t HAVE to Peeeeeeeeee”
Plopping him up on the high toilet, he immediately goes. “See, you did have to go”, I say.
“I did mom!” He looks up at me surprised, “Did you hear that splash, mom?”
“Mmmmm Hmmmmm” I lean against the cool tile wall.
“That means…I’m….poopin’….mom….” How long are we going to be in here now, I wonder.
He looks worried, “Mom! You are touching the wall in a store bathroom! Yuck mom! Now you have to wash your forehead!”
“Honey, I am very far from the toilet- my forehead is fine.” I sigh and close my eyes.
“MOM!” he yells across the stall “Mom! Wake up! Are you sleeping?”
“Yes, honey, I am sleeping here leaning against this wall, waiting for you to finish your business” I roll my eyes to myself.
“Mom, it’s not my business, I’m poopin’.”
The wall is cool and I’m really enjoying it “I know sweetie, just finish please…”
Now he is swinging his feet too and fro, “Puh, puh, puh” making the phonetic sound for the letter “P”- good, he has been paying attention, I think.
“P-O-O, does that spell Poo, mom?”
Holy cow, can this get more fun? Before I have a chance to answer him, he starts chanting, “P-O-O, P-O-O…” and now I have to face away so he can’t see I am laughing.
“Yes, that spells poo. Will you please finish?”
“HEY MOM! Winnie the Pooh’s last name is Poo! That’s gross mom! Why is his name Poo? Who’s name is Poo!?”
Oh, egad. Can I please get off this ride, just for a little bit?
So, two hours later, as I sit down at my desk to write this out, my 2 year old comes to see what I am doing, and crawls under my desk. He is sitting on my feet as I type. I ask him why he is under the desk, to which he happily chirps “Mama, my poopin!”
And the wheel goes round…. and round.