I have written a lot about poop. A LOT. From Wildling #1 (aka The Boo) and his epic newborn poo-splosions all the way up to just THIS MORNING, my children’s proclivity for plentiful pooping has kept this Chief Mommy Officer constantly wiping and constantly asking “WHAT DID YOU EAT?” even though mostly it is I who have fed the little poopinators. There is just so much poop.
Wildling #2 is 3 ½ now. She should be fully potty trained, at least to the point of NOT intentionally pooping in places other than the potty or a nap/nighttime pull-up, right? No… not my child. Not my little poop factory. Apparently, the potty is just one of many options at her (and for her) disposal.
Last night she was in the tub. I knew she had to poop so was hoping the warm water would “prime” her for an easy post-tub potty poop. She was even crossing her legs, which she sometimes does to stop herself from pooping. Good, she’s primed and ready. So I urged her to get out of the tub and traverse the two feet to the toilet. This was obviously a wholly unreasonable request as it was met with abject refusal. I even offered her a lollipop if she properly did the deed. Not this girl, no way. Instead, as the tub was draining and she was slowly getting up to get out, she let it loose. In the tub. Two feet from the toilet. At 3 ½ years old. What. The. Ever. Loving. Hell. I think I started crying and speaking in tongues.
I finally managed to get her on the potty because I know she’s got a little more to give. This little wildling has the nerve to ask me if she can have that lollipop. Are you kidding me, girlfriend? You just took a dump in the BATHTUB. Get your poopshoot (and the rest of you) into bed, we’re done here for the night. Mommy has some cleaning to do.
Fast forward to this morning. Woke up with both wildlings in my bed, which is now commonplace. Thankfully #2 made it in first so she was in the middle with #1 on the other side of her. If #1 is in first she usually (instead of using her words and asking nicely) starts screaming and clawing him away from me so she can into her spot in the middle. It’s a nice scene to wake up to at 4am. Can you feel the love?
I got up before them, as I usually do, to get dressed and lay out their clothes. I go to wake them up and I smell it. Good lord, girl, do you have a poop? I hear a resounding NO but I am unconvinced. As I finally coerce her to roll out of my bed I see it. A softball sized wet spot on my sheet. Right where I usually sleep. She had pooped in her pull up and it had leaked through. A poo-splosion, if you will. Onto my bed. She pooped in my bed. SHE POOPED IN MY BED. NO. STOP. WHY? WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?
WHY IS THERE SO MUCH POOP? IN PLACES WHERE IT SHOULDN’T BE? She’s 3 ½, WHYYYYYYYYY? My house is a literal shit show. When will it end? Please someone tell me this will end at some point. Please. Lie to me. I need it right now.
She’s lucky she’s cute.