We have reached a monumental moment in the life of a toddler: poop on the potty. This happened without any nagging or cajoling on my part. All I’ve done is dress Jocelyn in pull-ups and hope that she learns a thing or two at daycare. I know there are parents out there that believe you can potty train a baby as young as 12 months. Perhaps you can, but I’ve been too lazy find out. If I have to wipe poop off a tiny butt then I find it a lot easier to deal with a diaper. Because I’ve seen what some of these kids do—whining and crying that they have to pee every 15 minutes. And yet, Jocelyn is not allowed to go on a field trip this week because she’s not fully potty trained. Were she practiced in the art of life sans diaper she could force one of her teachers to stand and wait the ten minutes it takes for her to take a shit rather than the 60 seconds it would take to change her Huggies.
But I digress.
I choose to celebrate (in the form of blogging memories) Jocelyn’s first official number two. She was proud—flipping her head from side to side, happily grunting and laughing and singing and jibber jabbering before I finally convinced her that poop-time had come to an end.
I can still hear her singing: and I poop and I poop and I poop and I poop.