When I was in college, my roommate Christine and I used to sit around over a half rack of Coors Light musing about the deeper things in life.
Such as, poop.
We had this conversation where we came to the conclusion you could not say the word poop without laughing. We tried over and over again and erupted into fits of laughter every time.
I'm sure the beer had nothing to do with it.
Now, ten years later, poop is still a huge part of my life. Yes, I write about poop a lot. I can't help it. It's amazing how important it becomes when you have a kid. Too many? Not enough? I don't remember him eating [insert food here]? Did ALL of that seriously come out of my tiny little child? And so on.
So we're back to the pooping in the tub issue. But now, I think it's a game.
A messy, disgusting, gag-inducing game.
For three nights straight, G has looked me in the eye, bore down, and crapped in the tub. Clearly, he's doing it with purpose.
I was talking to my mom last night and she suggested maybe he's ready to try a potty.
'But he's not even 17 months old yet!' I protested. But it got me thinking. Could he really be ready to try to use a potty? My little baby? Could it be true?
Today, we make the trek to Babies r Us to pick out a potty. I'm so not ready for this, I haven't done any research on what kind to get, maybe a book I should read?
I'm not getting too excited over this, as it could turn out he just likes pooping in the tub. It must be a thrill having mommy gasp, grasp you under the arms and whisk you out of the tub, then try to figure out how to fish a turd out of the bubbles. I may buy a little goldfish net today too. And another jug of bleach.
If anyone has any potty training advice/product suggestions/book recommendations, I'm all ears.
And I am most definitely not letting him in the wading pool diaper less. I don't need a Caddyshack situation on my hands.