Adventures in Potty Training Part II-Everything is Poop

The Whole Entire World is Poopin’

Little C has entered a new stage in this whole potty training deal; she has come to the conclusion that everything is poop and everyone is constantly pooping (or as she says it “poopin’ “). Can’t see the kitties? They must be pooping. Daddy is asleep? No, he must be pooping too. Seriously. We had this conversation Saturday morning:

Little C: “Where Daddy?”
Me: “He’s sleeping baby.”
Little C: “Nope. He poopin’. Daddy poopin’.”
Me: I promise babe, he is asleep right now. 
Little C: No. Poopin’. Poopin’ poopin’, Mom. He poopin’. 
Me: “Sure. OK.”

I’ve simply given up on trying to convince her that just because you can’t see someone or something it does not mean that they must be pooping (I pick my battles wisely).  I mean have you ever tried arguing with a toddler? There is no logic involved. There is no winning. An argument between Little C and I looks something like this-mind you that Little C is mostly yelling “COOKIE!!!” the whole time but I imagine that this is what she is thinking:

Me: “No, you can not eat this box of baking soda (which happens to have a picture of a cookie on it).”
Little C: “I see cookies. I see cookies. Give me the cookies. I want the cookies.” 
Me: “There are no cookies. This is not for you to eat. That is a picture of a cookie, but there are no cookies inside of this box.”  
Little C: “I see cookies. There must be cookies because I see cookies. Cookie time, please. Cookies now. GIMME COOKIES!”

See what I mean about logic and it’s relative nonexistence in the mind of a toddler?  It works perfectly to explain why in Little C’s world, not only does the physical absence of a person/toy/cat equal pooping, but anything having to do with the bathroom and poop is, by extension, pooping. This morning, as as she watched me scoop the litter box, she pointed and screamed “Poopin! Poopin Mom!” at which point I realized that she was pointing to some of the litter that had escaped the box. In her mind, the kitties poop in the box, litter lives in the box, litter must be poop, i.e. litter is now pooping. Get how this works? It’s madness. Being a toddler must be really strange….which is perhaps why we don’t remember those earliest formative years-it would be too traumatic. Imagine if you believed for your entire life that ALL things around you, from sand to trees to your parents to your car were always pooping? Sounds pretty terrifying, doesn’t it? And messy. 

Speaking of messy, Saturday morning Little C went pee in her potty and then asked for something so she could “clean up” (wipe).  I handed her some TP and turned my back for LITERALLY 30 seconds, and when I turned back around she was kneeling in front of the froggy potty, TP in hand, DIPPING IT INTO THE PEE AND WIPING HER LEGS WITH IT. I kid you not. You can’t make this stuff up. Apparently wiping oneself with pee equates cleaning up. It was immediately impromptu bath time.

C has also developed quite the affinity for the “big” potty. Now that she has sort of mastered the art of using her froggy potty, she seems to have decided that she is far too grown up to be using her baby potty.  Saturday night she said “I go pee pee” and went tearing out of the living room, headed not towards her trusty froggy potty positioned safely on the hardwood, but back to our bedroom. I trailed after her, not terribly concerned as she was wearing her diaper. 

Imagine my surprise when I found her moments later, sans diaper, SITTING by HERSELF on our master bathroom toilet. Her diaper lay discarded and forgotten by the door, her tiny toes dangled inches off the ground (and this my friends, is the REAL reason why toilet locks were invented, and why we should have one in our master bathroom). She looked at me with this self-satisfied glint in her eye, while precariously maintaining her balance, and reached for the toilet paper. She carefully tore off square after square of TP, dropping each one between her into the bowl. What a fun game! Watch TP fall into bowl! Then flush! Great fun! 

There was a massive meltdown when I finally put an end to the toilet paper game. Our door to the master bath is now kept shut as there have been several more “get on the potty like a big girl so I can flush TP down the toilet” incidences. And so the fun continues. I have been wondering if perhaps living in diapers until she is twelve or thirteen years old might be easier?

No doubt contemplating life and the art of potty training
Plotting. Always always plotting



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