Friday, June 17, 2011

Poo-Poo Tales


For the past couple of months, Charlie has been on Poop Patrol.  Anything brown is pointed to and exclaimed about in a tone of extreme urgency:  "Poo-poo Dani!  POO-POO!"  (It really helps to see the look on his face when he does this to get the full effect... big blue eyes, chubby little cheeks, look of importance with his finger aimed at the offending object... priceless.)
I have a large poster in my hallway with pictures of different herbs all over it.  One of the pictures is of a ginger root (which, quite honestly, DOES kinda look like a turd).  Every SINGLE day, Charlie stands in my hallway and points at it and yells, "Poo-poo, Dani!  Poo-poo!  Uh-oh, Dani!  POO-POO!" 
It pretty much cracks me up.  Every flipping time.
Anyway, several weeks ago Venice had demanded her usual lunch of chocolate pudding and hot cocoa.  After going down the litany of "Do you want such and such?" and her replying, "I don't want it," I gave up and produced chocolate pudding and hot cocoa (which is why I'm in such demand for child care.  I promise to ruin your children forEVER.  It's my guarantee).  I opened up a chocolate pudding cup for Charlie, sat him on my lap and started feeding him pudding.  After the first couple of bites, he started making yum-yum noises, followed by, "MMmmmmm poo-poo!  MMMMMMM!  MMmmmm, Dani!  POO-POO!"  I kept saying, "MMMMmmm Charlie, PUDDING!" to which he would respond, "Poo-poo!  MMMMMMM!"
Since Charlie also has to go into the bathroom with me every time I need to pee (not by my choice, trust me... I am perfectly okay with peeing by myself. Charlie, on the other hand, feels the need to supervise) we tend to discuss at length what I'm doing on the potty.  Charlie will burst into the bathroom while I'm peeing (which I'm doing as quickly as possible) and announce, "POO POO!"
"No, Charlie," I tell him.  "Dani is going pee." 
"POO POO!" he repeats, delighted in his vast knowledge of the subject.
We go back and forth until I'm finished and then as I'm standing up to pull up my pants, he tries to peer into the toilet to see what he can see.
"UH OH, Dani!"  he will say.  "Uh OH!  POO POO!"
"There's no poo-poo, Charlie," I tell him. 
"Poo-poo," he insists.
Okay, fine,  Whatever.
Somedays he just wanders around repeating the word over and over again, kind of like a little chant.  Sometimes I ignore him and that's generally the time that he actually HAS pooped and needs a diaper change.  Other times I just repeat it after him, which makes him very happy.  There are days when that makes up about 90% of our entire conversation.  We just say "Poo-poo!" all the live-long day.  I have no idea why, but it works for us. 
I love it when he's cuddling on my lap, little faced pressed against my shoulder, and he'll whisper, "Poo-poo..." 
"I love you, too, Charlie," I tell him. 
It's all in the translation, trust me on this.

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